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^be  Brt  of  tbe  pltti  palace 

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DONNA   VELATA 
By  Raphael;  iii  the  Stanza  of  the  Education  of  Jupiter 

(JSee  ^age  2qii) 


be  Brt  ot  tbc 
K^ittt  l^alace 

With  a  Short  History  of  the 
Building  of  the  Palace,  and  Its  Owners,  and 
an  Appreciation  of  Its  Treasures    ^     ^     ^ 


By 

Julia  de  Wolf  Addison 

Author  of  "  Florestane  the  Troubadour,"  etc. 


Illustrated 


t^.V 


tu^vu 


L.    C.    Page    &    Company 

MDCCCCIV 


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U  of 


Copyright,  igoj 
By  L.  C.  Page  &  Company 

(incorporated) 
All  rights  reserved 

V-  Zu  -0  i- 


Published  October,  1903 


Electrotype^  fnd'Prirtted'by  C*  H'.*9lmon<l8*&  Co. 
Boston,  Mass.,  U.  S.  A. 


Contents 


I.       LUCA    PiTTI    AND    HiS    PALACE 

II.  The  Growth  of  the  Collection 

III.  The  Hall  of  Venus 

IV.  The  Hall  of  Apollo 
V.  The  Hall  of  Mars 

VI.  The  Hall  of  Jupiter 
VII.  The  Hall  of  Saturn 
VIII.  The  Hall  of  the  Iliad 
IX.  The  Stanza  of  Prometheus 
X.  The  Stanza  della  Stufa  and  the  Stanza 

OF  THE  Education  of  Jupiter  . 
XI.  Stanza  of  Ulysses  and  Stanza  of  Justice 
XII.  The  Stanza  of  Flora  and  the  Stanza 

DEI   PUTTI 

XIII.     The    Royal  Apartments  and   the    Boboli 

Gardens        

Bibliography 

Index        


PAGE 
I 

32 
46 

68 
100 
130 
160 
206 
246 

290 
312 

333 

362 
377 
379 


373412 


%iQt  of  1[Uu8ttation8 


Donna  Velata    {See  page  2g6)  . 

By  Raphael ;  in  the  Stanza  of  the  Education  of  Jupiter 
FAgADE    OF    THE    PiTTI    PALACE    . 

Garden -Front  of  the  Pitti  Palace  . 
Venus  and  Vulcan  with  Cupid 

By  Tintoretto  ;  in  the  Hall  of  Venus 

Marriage  of  St.  Catherine    . 

By  Titian  ;  in  the  Hall  of  Venus 

Angelo  Doni 

By  Raphael;  in  the  Hall  of  Apollo 

Madonna  and  Child 

By  Murillo  ;  in  the  Hall  of  Apollo 
PietA     

By  Fra  Bartolommeo  ;  in  the  Hall  of  Apollo 

Infant  Prince  Leopold  de  Medici 

By  Tiber  io  Tito  ;  in  the  Hall  of  Apollo 

St.  Peter  Raising  the  Widow  Tabitha 

By  Guercino  ;  in  the  Hall  of  Apollo 

Mars  Preparing  for  War 

By  Rubens  ;  in  the  Hall  of  Mars 

Four  Philosophers 

By  Rubens  ;  in  the  Hall  of  Mars 

EccE  Homo 

By  Cigoli;  in  the  Hall  of  Mars 

Howard,  Duke  of  Norfolk  (Detail)     . 

By  Titian  ;  in  the  Hall  of  Mars 

Judith  with  the  Head  of  Holofernes 

By  A  llori  ;  in  the  Hall  of  Mars 


PAGE 

Frontispiece 

22 

27 
48 


52 

69 
1^ 
84 

95 
96 

100 
106 
no 

112 

"5 


viii  Xi0t  ot  irUustratton5 

PAGB 

Hall  of  Jupiter 130 

Three  Ages  of  Man 138 

By  Lotto  ;  in  the  Hall  of  Jupiter 

Conspiracy  of  Catiline 142 

By  Rosa  ;  in  the  Hall  of  Jupiter 

Annunciation 152 

By  A  ndrea  del  Sarto  ;  in  the  Hall  of  Jupiter 

Madonna  of  the  Chair 160 

By  Raphael;  in  the  Hall  of  Saturn 

Madonna  del  Granduca 170 

By  RapJiael ;  in  the  Hall  of  Saturn 

Vision  of  Ezekiel 174 

By  Raphael;  in  the  Hall  of  Saturn 

Head  of  Mary  Cleophas 186 

Detail  from  the  Deposition,  by  Perugino  ;  in  the  HaU  of  Saturn 

DiSPUTA .188 

By  A  ndrea  del  Sarto  ;  in  the  Hall  of  Saturn 

St.  John  Asleep 197 

By  Carlo  Dolci;  in  the  Hall  of  Saturn 

Hall  of  the  Iliad 206 

The  Concert 208 

By  Giorgione  ;  in  the  Hall  of  the  Hiad 

Christ  Enthroned 212 

By  A  .  Car  ace  i;  in  the  Hall  of  the  Hiad 

Tobias  and  the  Angel 218 

By  Biliverti;  in  the  Hall  of  the  Hiad 

Altar -Piece 250 

By  Fra  Angelica  ;  in  the  Stanza  of  Protnetheus 

Madonna  and  Child 254 

By  Fra  Filippo  Lippi ;  in  the  Stanza  of  Promethetts 

Madonna  of  the  Rose -Bush 266 

By  Botticelli;  in  the  Stanza  of  Prometheus 

The  Epiphany 272 

By  Piniuricchio  ;  in  the  Stanza  of  Prometheus 

Stanza  della  Stufa,  with  Dupre's  Statues   of 

Cain  and  Abel 292 

La  Zingarella 304 

By  Garofalo  ;  in  the  Stanza  della  Stufa 

Temptation  of  St.  Jerome 324 

By  Vasari;  in  the  Stanza  of  Justice 


OList  ot  mittstrations  ix 

PAGE 

Stanza  of  Flora,  with  Canova's  Venus       .        .  336 

Allegorical  Head 347 

By  Furini  ;  in  tJie  Stanza  of  Flora 

Pallas  and  the  Centaur    .    .    .    .    .  366 

By  Botticelli  ;  in  the  Royal  Apartments 

The  Amphitheatre,  Boboli  Gardens      .        ,        .  372 


PLAN   OF   THE    PITTI    PALACE 


1.  Hall  of  Venus 

2.  Hall  of  Apollo 

3.  Hall  of  Mars 
Hall  of  Jupiter 
Hall  of  Saturn 
Hall  of  the  Iliad 
Stanza  della  Stufa 
Stanza  of   the  Education  of 

Jupiter 


9.  Bath-room 
ID.  Stanza  of  Ulysses 

11.  Stanza  of  Prometheus 

12.  Corridor  of  Columns 

13.  Stanza  of  Justice 

14.  Stanza  of  Flora 

15.  Stanza  dei  Putti 

16.  Galleria  Poccetti 


tTbe  Hrt  of  tbe  pitti  palace 


CHAPTER  I. 

LUCA    PITTI    AND    HIS    PALACE 

There  is  no  gallery  of  its  size  in  the  world  so 
replete  with  gems  of  art  and  acknowledged  master- 
pieces of  the  Golden  Age  of  painting  in  Italy  as  the 
Pitti  Palace.  One  cannot  but  wish  that  there  were 
more  of  the  masters  of  the  Early  Renaissance  repre- 
sented, and  it  is  true  that  there  are  no  examples  of 
mediaeval  devotional  art. 

It  may  be  here  observed  that  art  is  seen  in  the 
Pitti  in  all  stages  of  its  flowering,  from  the  time 
of  budding  to  the  period  of  decay ;  from  the  sweet, 
pure  lights  of  Fra  Angelico  and  the  moth- wing 
tints  of  Botticelli  to  the  somewhat  degenerate  art 
of  Salvator  Rosa,  Guido  Reni,  and  Carlo  Dolci ; 
but  of  all  grades  of  artists  represented  in  this  assem- 
bly there  is  some  example  of  interesting,  and  usually 


/•'•. :  ^"*:  .-'ilbe  UtV  6i  tbc  IMlti  palace 

typical,  work.  Here  we  may  revel  in  the  ideal  real- 
ism of  Raphael;  the  soft  glow  of  Murillo;  the 
devotional  seriousness  of  Fra  Angelico,  Pinturicchio, 
Perugino,  and  Botticelli;  here  are  spread  before  us 
the  beautiful  Madonnas  of  Andrea  del  Sarto,  called 
the  "  faultless  painter ; "  the  quaint  worldliness  of 
Fra  Filippo  Lippi;  and  the  poetic,  rippling  smiles 
of  Leonardo.  There  are  also  many  noble  examples 
of  the  Italian  portrait,  by  those  whom  Ruskin  terms 
**  patient,  powerful  workers  "  of  the  fifteenth  cen- 
tury, and  by  many  succeeding  portrait  painters. 
Nearly  all  the  schools  of  Italy  are  represented,  from 
the  fifteenth  century  forward,  culminating  in  the 
rich  glories  of  the  great  Venetians,  Titian,  Veronese, 
and  Tintoretto. 

The  setting  for  the  pictures  is  florid,  and  might 
be  trying  if  the  pictures  themselves  were  not  of  such 
absorbing  interest  that  the  visitor  does  not  have 
much  time  to  consider  the  surroundings.  The  style 
of  interior  decoration  in  the  Pitti  Palace  is  of  an 
objectionable  late-Renaissance  type,  gilded  bossy 
ceilings  ornamented  with  indifferent  frescoes,  and 
exhibiting  what  Browning  calls  "  stucco  twiddlings 
everywhere."  The  rooms  are  named  in  romantic 
taste  after  various  persons  and  attributes  of  classic 
times.  Henry  James  speaks  of  these  apartments  as 
"  those  dusky  drawing-rooms  of  the  Palazzo  Pitti, 
to  which  you  take  your  way  along  that  tortuous 


Xuca  iPitti  an^  Ibis  palace  3 

tunnel  that  wanders  through  the  houses  of  Florence, 
and  is  supported  by  the  little  goldsmith's  booths  on 
the  Ponte  Vecchio.  In  the  rich  and  insufficient 
light  of  these  beautiful  rooms,  to  look  at  pictures, 
you  sit  in  damask  chairs  and  rest  your  elbows  on 
tables  of  malachite."  There  is  no  denying  that  these 
rooms  are  gaudy  and  meretricious  in  taste;  but 
they  are  just  as  historically  true  to  their  day  as  are 
the  more  pleasing  Gothic  and  Romanesque  interiors 
to  their  time.  This  late  Renaissance  and  its  still 
later  decadence  are  typical  of  the  people  who  lived 
in  these  periods.  The  latter  may  be  called  the  Gilded 
Age.  The  Golden  Age  had  preceded  it.  Raphael, 
Titian,  Leonardo,  Del  Sarto  —  these  need  no  apol- 
ogy —  even  mediaevalists  can  appreciate  these  un- 
deniably great  painters;  but  there  is  a  vast  horde 
of  men  who  came  after  them,  not  worthy  to  be 
named  with  them,  and  yet  who  possessed  fine  qual- 
ities, and  produced  significant  pictures.  These 
pictures,  and  the  very  best  of  them,  hang  in  the 
Pitti  Palace.  They  have  never  been  given  their 
due.  While  there  is  obvious  decadence,  there  is 
also  decided  merit  to  be  seen. 

While  there  can  be  no  question  that  the  early 
pictures  in  the  Stanza  of  Prometheus  are  vastly 
more  interesting  and  satisfying  than  the  works  of 
the  sixteenth  and  seventeenth  centuries,  it  would 
be  very  narrow  to  say  that  all  art  during  these 


4  XTbe  art  ot  tbe  pittt  palace 

centuries  was  bad,  because  it  failed  to  interpret  the 
sacred  legends  as  spiritually,  or  to  portray  them 
as  archaically,  as  did  Fra  Angelico  and  Fra  Lippo. 
It  happens  to  be  the  fashion  now  to  admire  the 
fascinating  immature  conceptions  of  the  earlier  mas- 
ters. It  is  much  easier  for  us  to  appreciate  and 
love  the  works  of  these  cloistered  souls  than  to 
admire  the  works  of  the  later  men  who  lived  in 
conditions  more  like  our  own.  But  we  cannot  over- 
look the  fact  that  we  force  ourselves  into  an  un- 
necessary ignorance  of  two  whole  centuries  of  art 
if  we  fail  to  perceive  the  excellences  as  well  as 
the  defects  in  the  pictures  of  such  men  as  the 
Caracci,  Guido  Reni,  Salvator  Rosa,  and  even  Carlo 
Dolci.  These  men  exhibit  a  marvellous  technical 
skill;  they  approach  nearer  to  the  outward  appear- 
ance of  natural  objects  in  their  drawing  than  did 
the  early  religious  painters,  even  if  they  are  often 
stagey  and  artificial.  We  can  make  allowance,  if 
we  care  to  do  so,  for  all  these  shortcomings;  just 
as  we  make  allowance  for  the  technical  imperfec- 
tions in  the  older  masters,  as  we  rejoice  to,  and  are 
certainly  obliged  to  do.  The  rage  for  culture  has 
made  it  far  more  interesting  to  superficial  students 
of  art  to  rave  over  anything  that  has  to  be  explained 
and  interpreted^  than  to  admire  the  works  of  an 
age  which  was  less  intellectual  and  dealt  less  with 


%\xca  pittt  ant)  Ibis  palace  5 

legends,  and  more  with  the  glad,  cheerful  facts  of 
life. 

The  three  most  prominent  schools  of  art  in  Italy 
were  the  Florentine,  which  was  famous  for  its  com- 
prehension of  form ;  the  Umbrian,  in  which  religious 
feeling  and  grace  are  the  predominating  features; 
and  the  Venetian,  —  the  school  in  which  colour 
played  a  greater  part  than  in  either  of  the  others. 

Art  may  be  roughly  subdivided  into  two  princi- 
ples: one,  the  idea  of  illustration,  and  the  other, 
the  idea  of  decoration.  Either  of  these  principles 
developed  to  the  exclusion  of  the  other  is  incom- 
plete. If  a  picture  consists  of  illustration  simply, 
with  no  consideration  of  the  decorative  quality,  a 
newspaper  cut  or  a  photograph  will  serve  its  turn 
as  well  as  a  painting.  On  the  other  hand,  a  painting 
which  has  a  beautiful  harmony  in  colour  and  form, 
and  yet  which  is  not  intelligently  conceived  as  a 
subject,  conveys  no  more  complete  artistic  message 
than  does  a  kaleidoscope.  It  may  please  the  eye, 
but  it  does  not  instruct  the  mind;  and  art  is  in- 
tended to  do  both.  The  purest  combination  is  that 
of  a  great  subject  treated  in  a  real  way,  in  which 
the  facts  are  portrayed  through  the  medium  of 
beauty.  The  Florentines,  besides  being  painters, 
were  also  sculptors;  their  art  recognized  fewer  re- 
strictions than  that  of  the  Umbrian  and  the  Vene- 
tian schools,  hence  their  paintings  took  on  more  of 


6  Zbc  Hrt  or  tbe  pitti  palace 

the  relief  of  sculpture,  and  their  sculpture  was  often 
pictorial.  Colour  was  never,  with  them,  the  chief 
consideration,  as  with  the  Venetians.  Many  of  the 
most  pleasing  pictures  by  Tintoretto  are  technically 
faulty  in  drawing.  But  there  was  one  ideal  before 
all  the  schools  of  the  Renaissance,  one  principle 
in  which  they  all  united.  That  was,  to  portray 
things  as  they  actually  were ;  to  recognize  individual 
peculiarities,  and  to  depict  rather  than  to  design. 
Types  were  no  longer  the  ideal,  as  with  the  Greeks. 
Apelles  would  have  smoothed  away  all  little  per- 
sonal irregularities  in  his  subject,  whereas  Leonardo 
and  Durer  spent  days  in  trying  to  catch  these  in- 
dividual touches.  The  Greek  ideal  of  beauty  had 
been  to  present  abstract  perfection ;  the  Renaissance 
ideal  was  to  show  the  variety  in  personal  attributes, 
not  to  be  confused  in  any  one  type. 

In  place  of  the  old  Byzantine  Guide  to  Painting, 
these  men  of  the  later  Renaissance  had  Leonardo  da 
Vinci's  priceless  advice  to  help  them  in  their  labours. 
And  it  would  be  well  if  all  persons  would  cultivate 
their  perceptions  by  the  simple  means  laid  down 
by  Leonardo,  as^  for  instance,  in  the  passage  which 
is  here  quoted :  "  When  you  are  well  instructed  in 
perspective,  and  know  perfectly  how  to  draw  the 
anatomy  and  different  forms,  ...  it  should  be  your 
delight  to  observe  and  consider  .  .  .  the  different 
actions  of  men.  ...  Be  quick  in  sketching  these 


2Luca  putt  ant)  Ibis  palace  7 

with  slight  strokes  in  your  pocket-book,  which 
ahould  always  be  about  you.  .  .  .  When  it  is  full, 
take  another;  for  these  are  not  things  to  be  rubbed 
out,  but  kept  with  the  greatest  care,  because  forms 
and  motions  of  bodies  are  so  infinitely  various,  that 
the  memory  is  not  able  to  retain  them  therefore  pre- 
serve these  sketches  as  your  assistants  and  masters." 

It  is  said  that  ''  Titian  and  Raphael  are  the  paint- 
ers for  women;  Michelangelo  and  Tintoretto  the 
artists  for  men."  Equally  true  is  it  that  there  are 
some  artists  represented  in  the  Pitti  Palace  who 
appeal  only  to  sentimentalists. 

A  majority  of  the  pictures  in  the  gallery  may  be 
said  to  be  religious,  that  is,  they  represent  some 
subject  vitally  or  apochryphally  connected  with 
Biblical  teaching.  Many  deal  also  with  the  semi- 
mythical  acts  of  saints,  which  some  people,  owing 
to  an  ignorance  of  the  legends  of  the  Church,  find 
it  a  little  difficult  to  appreciate.  But  the  calm,  un- 
questioning religion  of  Fra  Angelico  differs  essen- 
tially from  the  intellectual  appreciation  of  Leonardo 
da  Vinci;  and  as  widely  from  the  stern,  unsympa- 
thetic interpretations  of  Michelangelo.  There  is  no 
cheerfulness  in  Michelangelo's  portrayal  of  spiritual 
emotion;  the  key-note  of  his  religion  is  gloom  — 
sordid  duty  —  and  wrath;  as  Mr.  G.  B.  Rose  ex- 
presses it,  "  his  soul  is  really  with  the  Hebrew 
prophets ; "   he  has  not  read  aright  the  Revelation. 


8  tXbe  Hrt  ot  tbe  BMttt  palace 

Fashions  change  so  much  in  the  matter  of  taste 
in  art,  that  it  is  impossible  to  say  always  what  will 
be  the  future  standing  of  certain  w^orks,  when  they 
exhibit  any  salient  quality.  This  quality  may  be 
either  disliked  or  admired  exceedingly  at  various 
periods,  according  to  the  way  in  which  the  spirit 
of  the  time  determines  the  standard  of  excellence. 
Mrs.  Jameson,  for  instance,  was  considered  a  woman 
of  taste  in  her  day;  and  yet  her  choice  of  the  greatest 
pictures  in  the  Pitti  collection  includes  Guido  Reni's 
Cleopatra,  and  Allori's  Judith,  and  Salvator  Rosa's 
Cataline!  Good  enough  paintings,  all  these;  but 
who  to-day  would  select  them  and  say  nothing  of 
Giorgione's  Concert,  Raphael's  Donna  Velata,  Tin- 
toretto's Venus  and  Vulcan,  and  Filippo  Lippi's 
appealing  little  Madonna ! 

Particularly  exhilarating  seems  to  have  been  the 
effect  of  this  gallery  upon  Horace  Bushnell,  who 
notes  in  his  diary  during  his  Italian  travels :  "  Spent 
the  morning  in  the  Pitti  Palace;  I  go  away  from 
the  place  all  in  a  glow;  I  seem  to  have  breathed  a 
finer  atmosphere,  and  all  my  good  feelings,  if  I 
have  any,  are  invigorated.  I  feel  conscious  that 
my  eye  is  forming  and  perfecting,  and  I  know  that 
it  must  be  a  benefit  to  us,  as  regards  writing  and 
the  conduct  of  life,  to  have  dwelt  in  such  an  atmos- 
phere and  felt  such  an  influence." 

It  is  unfashionable  just  now  to  admire  Domen- 


Xuca  ipitti  ant)  Ibis  Ipalace  9 

ichino,  Caracci,  and  other  late  men  of  the  Renais- 
sance. Ruskin  is  particularly  irritated  by  the  natu- 
ralistic angels  which  they  painted;  he  inveighs 
against  what  he  calls  "  a  sky  encumbered  with 
sprawling  infants  —  offensive  studies  of  barelegged 
children,  howling  and  kicking  in  volumes  of 
smoke;  "  and  he  remarks  with  a  sigh  that  the  late 
painters  do  not  seem  to  know  the  difference  between 
angels  and  cupids.  And  yet,  granting  all  this, 
why  should  one  therefore  shut  one's  eyes  to  the 
manifest  grace  and  loveliness  of  the  picture  by  Anni- 
bale  Caracci  in  the  Pitti,  entitled  Christ  in  Glory 
with  Saints,  and  such  pictures  as  the  delightful 
and  too  little  known  Tobias  and  the  Angel,  by  Bili- 
verti,  and  Guido  Reni's  little  Bacchus  (which  is 
free  from  his  usual  mannerisms). 

One  should  be  broad  enough  to  see  and  recognize 
merit  wherever  it  exists,  whether  or  not  it  happens 
to  be  in  one's  special  line  of  preference.  Mrs.  Jame- 
son is  right  when  she  claims  that  the  Pitti  gallery 
is  rather  a  selection  than  a  collection  of  the  most 
valuable  gems  and  masterpieces  of  art. 

The  Pitti  Palace  stands  on  a  slight  eminence, 
the  upper  ridge,  as  it  were,  of  a  natural  depression 
in  a  hillside.  It  was  begun  in  144 1,  by  Luca  Pitti, 
a  wealthy,  proud,  ambitious  rival  of  the  Medici  and 
Strozzi,  —  a  successful  merchant,  a  leading  politi- 


10  Zbc  Hrt  ot  tbe  pitti  palace 

cian,  a  vain  tyrant,  who,  though  overbearing  and 
determined  in  attack,  proved  weak  and  irresolute  in 
his  final  defeat. 

Luca  Pitti  is  declared  by  Guiciardini  to  have  been 
the  first  citizen  of  Florence.  He  felt  early  the  lust 
for  power,  and  entered  public  life  while  he  was 
very  young.  It  was  not  a  peaceful  life  at  best: 
there  is  an  old  saying,  which  was  once  written  by 
some  keen  observer  on  the  margin  of  the  Sumptuary 
Statutes : 

"  If  there  is  a  person  whom  you  hate, 
Send  him  to  Florence  as  officer  of  State.** 

Tlie  city  was  governed  by  the  Priors  of  the  Arts, 
a  company  of  eight  men  selected  from  among  the 
members  of  the  guilds  and  crafts,  and  presided  over 
by  a  Gonfalonier  of  Justice.  This  body  was  called 
the  Signoria,  and  lived  at  public  charge  in  the 
Palazzo  Signoria  for  their  term  of  office,  which  was 
two  months.  Luca  Pitti  had  held  various  of  these 
positions:  he  was  Prior,  Gonfalonier,  Ambassador 
to  Rome,  —  also  Ambassador  to  Sforza,  in  Milan ; 
and  he  was  most  enterprising  as  a  merchant.  While 
he  was  Gonfalonier  he  undertook  a  certain  business 
venture,  which,  it  must  be  admitted,  would  have 
been  a  credit  to  the  best  of  men.  He  sent  out  ten 
trading-vessels  to  England,  Constantinople,  and 
Barbary;     such    expeditions    in    those    days    were 


Xuca  pttti  anb  tfis  palace  " 

hazardous.  But  whether  he  was  blessed  by  Provi- 
dence or  assisted  by  his  familiar  devil,  the  fact 
remains  that  his  ventures  were  lucky,  and  Florence 
was  the  richer  by  over  one  hundred  thousand 
florins  through  his  boldness.  The  people  imme- 
diately recognized  their  indebtedness,  and  showered 
gifts  upon  him  in  gratitude.  By  such  means  he 
managed  to  get  the  confidence  of  the  Florentines, 
so  that  when  he  decided  to  spread  nets  for  their 
entanglement  and  for  his  own  advancement,  the  peo- 
ple ran  unsuspectingly  into  the  snares  laid  for  them. 
Wishing  to  appoint  his  own  officers,  he  determined 
to  oppose  the  Medici,  and  to  reign  in  their  stead. 
This  was  a  bold  project,  and  the  only  wonder  is, 
not  that  Luca  Pitti  was  ultimately  defeated,  but  that 
he  was  able  to  keep  his  head  up  as  long  as  he  did. 
He  had  all  the  vivacity  of  ambition  necessary  to  a 
party  leader,  and  he  undertook  to  oppose  the  liberal 
movements  in  the  government. 

His  opportunity  soon  occurred,  as  it  usually  does 
for  those  who  are  bent  upon  evil. 

Cosimo  de  Medici,  not  in  the  least  suspecting  the 
personal  ambition  of  Pitti,  decided  that  he  could  be 
made  useful  as  a  catspaw  for  the  Medici;  so  he 
gave  Luca  the  very  chance  he  had  been  looking  for. 
This  occurred  when,  as  Gonfalonier,  he  called  a 
meeting  of  the  Signoria  in  order  to  change  the  Balia. 
The  Balia  was  a  board  of  citizens  to  whom  was 


12  zbc  Hrt  of  tbe  ipttti  palace 

given  the  power  to  levy  taxes,  and  to  perform  other 
municipal  functions.  Pitti's  ambition  was  to  have 
a  new  Balia  elected  from  among  his  adherents ;  and 
so,  when  the  Signoria,  contented  with  the  existing 
conditions,  refused  to  appoint  a  new  Balia,  he  and 
Cosimo  decided  to  ignore  the  action  of  the  Signoria, 
and  that  the  best  course  for  their  interests  was  to 
call  a  Parlamento;  namely,  a  general  meeting  of 
the  citizens  in  the  Piazza  Signoria  to  vote  upon 
names  which  were  proposed  for  a  new  Balia. 

Up  to  this  point  Pitti  had  appeared  to  consider 
only  the  interests  of  Cosimo;  but  he  was  quietly 
scheming  on  his  own  account  to  surprise  his  ally,  and 
by  a  coup  d'etat  to  elect  a  Balia  composed  of  his 
own  conspirators.  This  triumph  he  achieved  when, 
on  the  9th  of  August,  1458,  the  Parlamento  assem- 
bled in  response  to  the  recognized  signal  for  such 
a  meeting,  the  ringing  of  the  great  bell  in  the  Palazzo 
Vecchio.  Cosimo  had  agreed  to  overawe  the  popu- 
lace by  having  two  thousand  of  his  soldiers  on 
guard.  Meanwhile  Pitti  had  secretly  arranged  to 
post  six  thousand  foot-soldiers  and  three  hundred 
mounted  guards,  so  that  after  the  voters  had  assem- 
bled they  could  prevent  all  entrance  to  or  exit  from 
the  square,  thus  warning  Cosimo  that  it  would  be 
vain  to  thwart  any  proposals  which  might  be  made 
by  Luca  Pitti.  When  Pitti  nominated  his  own  men 
for  the  Balia,  Cosimo  de  Medici,  who,  with  his  son 


Xttca  IPittt  anb  Ibis  palace  13 

Pietro,  was  within  the  Palazzo  Signoria,  surrounded 
by  his  guards,  reahzed  that  he  had  warmed  a  viper, 
and  that  the  balance  of  power  had  shifted. 

Cosimo  dared  not  oppose  such  a  formidable  array ; 
and  the  people,  many  of  them  of  the  lower  classes, 
probably  would  have  agreed  to  anything  out  of 
general  cheerfulness  of  spirit.  For  it  must  have 
been  a  gay  sight,  —  the  motley-coloured  throng, 
with  the  armed  men  interspersed  here  and  there, 
seen  against  the  cold  gray  walls  of  the  venerable 
palace,  with  the  picturesque  Signoria  mounted  on 
a  platform,  making  speeches  and  smiling  in  an  in- 
gratiating if  not  a  sincere  way.  The  people,  pleased 
with  the  attractions  of  the  pageant,  shouted  their 
approval,  and  when  this  unanimous  assent  was 
obtained,  the  show  was  over.  In  order  to  give  a 
high-toned  and  religious  aspect  to  the  whole  affair, 
a  solemn  procession  was  formed,  and  the  square  was 
evacuated  to  the  sound  of  the  Te  Deum.  So  the 
citizens  withdrew,  not  suspecting  that  they  had  now 
passed  under  a  new  regime  which  should  result  in 
their  oppression  for  some  time  to  come.  For  no 
sooner  did  Luca  Pitti  gain  the  supremacy  than  he 
started  an  unmerciful  system  of  taxation. 

Cosimo  de  Medici  was  now  growing  old,  and  was 
less  keen  and  less  strong  physically  than  he  had 
been.  Luca  ruled  him  with  the  iron  hand  of  one 
who  has  attained  his  power  through  his  own  cun- 


14  Ube  Hrt  ot  tbe  pitU  palace 

ning,  and,  until  the  old  man's  death,  never  ceased 
to  oppose  and  govern  the  Medicean  faction. 

During  this  period  of  his  success  Pitti  began  to 
think  of  erecting  his  great  residence,  and  the  Palazzo 
Pitti  v^as  built,  —  largely,  as  Machiavelli  expresses 
it,  through  the  people's  **  making  him  presents  for 
its  completion."  Possibly  this  means  that  they  were 
unlawfully  taxed,  or  possibly  that  they  were  so 
under  the  spell  of  this  popular  leader  that  they  en- 
joyed paying  this  tribute  to  his  success.  Another 
means  of  completing  and  enhancing  the  richness 
of  the  work  was  employed ;  Pitti  would  offer  refuge 
and  protection  to  exiles  and  thieves  within  his  palace, 
provided  they  could  assist  in  its  building  and  its 
adornment.  Ruskin,  in  "  The  Lamp  of  Power," 
sums  up  Luca  Pitti's  method  in  his  drastic  way,  — 
"  This  rapacious  gentleman,  who  gathered  to  him- 
self a  great  fortune  by  knavery  and  maladministra- 
tion of  justice,  built  this  as  his  little  town-house, 
literally  out  of  the  spoils  of  the  people  of  Florence, 
whom  he  induced  to  make  presents  towards  its 
completion  and  decoration." 

Cosimo's  famous  words  were  probably  spoken  to 
Luca  Pitti  when  he  said :  "  You  follow  the  infinite, 
and  I  the  finite.  You  lay  your  ladders  in  the  sky, 
and  I  lean  them  close  to  earth,  lest  I  may  fly  so 
high  that  I  may  fear  to  fall."  He  stood  aside, 
aged  and  weary,  satisfied  to  let  his  prosperous  rival 


Xuca  Pitt!  an^  t>iB  palace  15 

go  his  own  way,  saying :  *'  You  and  I  are  like  two 
great  dogs  who  rush  at  each  other  and  then  pause 
and  sniff.  As  both  have  teeth,  each  passes  on  his 
way.  Look  to  your  own  business,  and  I  will  attend 
to  mine." 

The  followers  of  Pitti  were  called  Del  Poggio, 
because  Luca's  palace  stood  on  a  hill;  while  the 
Medici  were  alluded  to  as  Del  Piano^  because  their 
palace  was  in  the  plain  below. 

When  Cosimo  died,  his  son  Pietro,  younger  and 
more  active,  seeing  the  plight  into  which  his  fac- 
tion had  fallen,  decided  upon  the  overthrow  of  Luca 
Pitti.  As  a  guileful  opening  wedge  with  which  to 
commence  his  work  he  introduced  a  friendly  sug- 
gestion that  an  alliance  between  the  houses  of  Medici 
and  Pitti  would  not  be  unattainable  —  so  that  Pitti 
even  made  the  proposition  of  a  marriage  between 
his  own  daughter  and  young  Lorenzo  de  Medici. 
Pietro  encouraged  the  suit,  playing  with  his  foe, 
while  he  prepared  to  strike.  For  in  planning  to 
call  another  Parlamento,  Pietro  knew  that  the  Signo- 
ria  were  too  wise  to  back  Pitti  a  second  time. 
Even  Cambi,  who  was  a  quiet,  gossiping  writer  of 
the  day,  exclaims,  with  unwonted  fervour,  "  Let 
those  who  read  this  learn  never  to  grant  a  Balia, 
and  never  to  allow  a  Parlamento.  Better  to  die 
sword  in  hand  than  to  permit  a  tyrant  to  be  raised 
up  over  the  city." 


i6  Ubc  Hrt  ot  tbe  pittt  palace 

The  people  were  tired  of  Pitti's  rule,  and  were 
only  too  ready  to  restore  the  Medici  to  power.  By 
the  force  of  his  own  example,  Luca  Pitti  had  inad- 
vertently taught  Pietro  de  Medici  how  to  get  the 
better  of  him.  With  fair  promises  to  the  last  and 
a  placid  condition  of  pseudo-friendship,  Medici 
called  a  Parlamento  in  his  turn;  and  lo!  he  had 
applied  the  old  proverb,  "  A  villain  must  be  beaten 
with  a  villainy ;  "  for  there  in  the  square  were  the 
body  of  armed  men  ready  to  enforce  the  Medicean 
rule,  just  as  they  had  been  formerly  a  host  to  sus- 
tain Pitti. 

Meanwhile,  Pitti's  friends  had  seen  that  he  was 
about  to  be  tricked^  and  had  tried  to  warn  him. 
Niccolo  Soderini  came  to  him,  and  tried  to  induce 
him  to  guard  against  the  treachery  which  was  soon 
to  be  practised  upon  him  by  the  Medici;  but  Luca 
had  practically  deserted  his  own  party,  for  he  was 
hoping  for  further  reconciliation  with  Pietro  through 
the  fact  that  one  of  his  nieces  had  married  Giovanni 
Tornabuoni,  and  he  counted  on  this  fact,  together 
with  his  projected  alliance,  to  cement  the  friendship 
of  his  opponent.  Niccolo  pleaded  with  him  in  vain, 
exclaiming,  "  I  can  do  the  city  no  good  alone,  but 
I  can  foresee  the  evils  that  will  befall  her.  This 
resolution  of  yours  will  rob  the  country  of  its 
liberty;  you  will  lose  the  government,  and  I  shall 
lose  my  property,  and  the  rest  will  be  banished," 


Xuca  pttti  an^  Ibis  palace  17 

And  Soderini  proved  to  be  somewhat  of  a  prophet. 
When  Luca  Pitti's  adherents  found  that  their  chief 
was  on  the  verge  of  defeat^  they  began  deserting  to 
the  Medicean  side,  so  that  by  the  time  Pietro  was 
ready  to  act,  the  material  for  his  triumph  was  ready 
to  his  hand.  Pitti,  seeing  at  last  that  he  had  trusted 
not  wisely  but  too  well,  and  that  his  enemy  now  had 
him  on  the  hip,  mistook  his  fear  for  a  conscientious 
scruple,  and  fell  an  easy  prey,  without  much  oppo- 
sition, to  the  plots  of  Pietro  de  Medici. 

In  fact,  the  victory  of  Pietro  was  conducted  on 
a  positively  courteous  plan.  The  Priors  invited 
Pitti  and  his  friends  to  a  meeting,  at  which  Pietro 
was  too  ill  to  appear.  Certain  propositions  were 
made,  resulting  in  the  promise  of  the  Pitti  faction 
to  lay  down  their  arms;  and  these  promises  were 
ratified  by  protestations  of  undying  friendship! 
Then  Pitti  was  conducted  to  the  sick-room,  and  he 
and  Pietro  had  quite  a  sentimental  interview,  in 
which  the  terrible  Luca  is  reported  to  have  wept ! 

The  Medicean  Parlamento  was  held  on  the  2d 
of  September,  1464;  Luca  Pitti  had  made  no  effort 
to  thwart  the  proposals  for  the  new  Balia;  in  fact, 
some  historians  affirm  that,  seeing  that  his  glory 
had  waned,  Luca,  anxious  to  save  his  own  neck,  had 
gone  with  compromises  to  Pietro,  betraying  his  party 
in  order  to  ensure  his  own  safety.  The  fact  that 
he   himself,    although    undeniably    the   ringleader, 


i8         Ube  Hrt  ot  tbe  pittt  palace 

was  the  only  man  in  his  party  to  escape  specific 
punishment,  gives  colour  to  this  theory.  The  fol- 
lowers of  Pitti  were  banished ;  he  himself,  although 
receiving  no  sentence,  was  practically  ruined;  the 
marriage  between  his  daughter  and  Lorenzo  de 
Medici  was  broken  off;  and  his  friends  turned 
against  him,  and  began  demanding  the  return  of 
their  gifts,  assuming  that  they  had  been  but  loans; 
and  the  elderly  man,  who  had  so  gloried  in  his  vanity 
and  power,  sank  away  out  of  public  life,  and  there 
is  no  further  record  of  his  career. 

Though  the  ultimate  fate  of  Pitti  is  unknown,  he 
succeeded  in  leaving  behind  him  as  a  symbol  of  his 
power  one  monument,  which  has  always  borne  his 
name  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  for  centuries  it  was 
the  property  of  his  rivals,  the  Medici.  This  mon- 
ument is  the  Pitti  Palace  —  that  building  in  Florence 
which  exhibits,  among  the  numerous  palaces  of  the 
city,  the  special  feature  of  the  feudal  survival  in  the 
early  Renaissance. 

Luca  Pitti  had  employed  the  best  architect  of  his 
day  —  Brunelleschi,  the  great  Florentine,  who  had 
built  the  dome  of  the  cathedral  in  Florence.  Cosimo 
de  Medici  had  employed  Michelozzo  in  erecting  his 
palace;  and  Pitti  wished  to  outdo  his  rival.  It  must 
be  confessed  that  he  succeeded.  Brunelleschi  re- 
ceived the  commission  for  the  design  in  1440.  He 
was  then  a  mature  man  of  sixty  years  of  age,  with 


Xuca  iptttt  ant)  Ibis  palace  19 

much  previous  experience  to  guide  him,  so  that  he 
brought  to  bear  upon  this  work  the  accumulated 
wisdom  of  a  long  and  useful  life. 

When  purchasing  the  land  for  his  palace,  Luca 
Pitti  showed  much  foresight  in  the  selection  of  a 
noble  situation,  to  display  to  the  best  advantage  the 
magnificence  which  he  intended  to  lavish  upon  his 
house.  He  bought  a  house  and  vineyard  belonging 
to  one  Monna  Bandecca,  a  member  of  the  well- 
known  family  of  Rossi,  who  owned  some  dwellings 
on  the  other  side  of  the  Ponte  Vecchio.  Then  he 
bought  the  piece  of  land  now  occupied  by  the  Boboli 
Gardens,  —  then  called  Bogoli,  —  for  which  he  gave 
450  florins.  Also  he  had  to  pay  indemnities  for 
many  houses  which  had  to  be  destroyed  to  enlarge 
the  space  for  his  new  mansion^  so  that  the  whole 
undertaking  was  a  costly  one.  The  people  also  ex- 
pressed some  disapproval  of  this  lavish  outlay, 
claiming  that  he  would  ruin  himself,  and  airing  their 
discontent  at  his  extravagance.  Luca  met  their 
objections  by  inviting  about  one  hundred  of  the 
chief  complainers  to  a  great  banquet,  arranging  .that 
each  guest  upon  this  occasion  should  have  for  his 
seat  a  large  sack  of  money.  After  this,  the  criticism 
abated;  his  friends  hastened  to  make  him  gifts  of 
propitiation. 

Luca  made  a  boast  to  Cosimo  de  Medici  that  the 
windows  of  his  new  house  should  be  larger  than 


20          XTbe  Hrt  ot  tbe  iptttt  palace 

the  great  doorway  of  the  Medici  Palace.  No  doubt 
it  gave  pleasure  to  Brunelleschi  (who  had  not  won 
the  commission  to  build  the  Medici  Palace)  thus  to 
outshine  his  rival  Michelozzo. 

Vasari  relates  that  Pitti  also  boasted  to  Filippo 
Strozzi  that  he  would  build  a  palace  large  enough 
to  contain  the  Strozzi  Palace  in  its  courtyard;  but 
this  cannot  be  a  true  story,  for  the  Strozzi  Palace 
was  not  built  until  five  years  later.  Vasari  also 
says  that  the  plans  of  Brunelleschi  were  carried  out 
by  Luca  Fancelli;  but  as  Luca  Fancelli  was  born 
in  1430,  he  would  only  have  been  about  ten  years 
of  age  at  this  time  —  so,  unless  he  was  an  infant 
prodigy,  the  building  was  undoubtedly  begun  by 
another  Fancelli;  later  Vasari  alludes  to  him  as 
Silvestro,  so  it  is  probable  that  there  were  two  Fan- 
cellis  in  Florence. 

By  the  time  Brunelleschi  died,  the  palace  had  risen 
to  its  second  storey,  and  his  final  design  could  be 
traced  easily  in  the  completed  part.  Solidity  of 
structure  on  a  very  grand  and  imposing  scale  was 
the  chief  concession  which  the  great  architect  made 
to  the  somewhat  florid  taste  of  Pitti.  Simplicity 
and  richness  of  material  (not  detail)  characterized 
the  building.  The  original  design  was  compact  and 
in  good  proportion,  intended  to  be  three  stories  high. 
Only  the  central  part  of  the  palace  as  it  is  to-day 


Xuca  iptttf  anb  Ibis  palace  21 

appears  in  the  original  design.  The  wings  were 
added  later. 

Many  writers  speak  of  the  Pitti  Palace  as  being 
Doric.  But  there  is  no  characteristic  of  Doric  archi- 
tecture about  it,  except  that  it  is  massive,  in  which 
it  more  resembles  Etruscan  work.  There  is  no 
classical  detail  about  the  fagade  except  pediments  on 
the  windows  in  the  lower  storey  —  and  those  were 
not  in  the  plan,  but  were  added  in  late  Renaissance 
times,  as  a  filling  for  the  plain  round  arches  placed 
there  by  Brunelleschi. 

Almost  the  exact  intention  of  the  architect  has 
been  discovered  through  three  sources:  one  source 
of  information  on  this  subject  is  a  plan,  which  is 
now  in  the  Uffizi ;  another  is  a  picture  in  the  Church 
of  San  Spirito,  an  altar-piece  painted  by  Alessandro 
Allori,  in  which  the  fagade  of  the  Pitti  Palace  ap- 
pears; and  the  third  is  in  the  portrait  of  a  lady, 
probably  some  member  of  the  Pitti  family ;  through 
an  open  window  in  the  background  of  this  picture 
the  Pitti  Palace  may  be  seen.  By  means  of  these 
three  suggestions  and  other  material  which  has  been 
discovered,  Professor  Cosimo  Conti  has  proved  that 
the  design  of  the  palace,  as  first  planned,  called  for 
three  central  arches  in  the  basement  and  a  row  of 
seven  windows  above.  Many  of  the  somewhat  dis- 
proportionate features  which  now  exist  are  not  due 
to  Brunelleschi,  but  were  later  additions.    An  exam- 


22  Ube  Htt  ot  tbe  pitti  palace 

illation  of  the  palace  as  it  now  stands  will  prove 
this. 

Some  persons  consider  that  the  facade  is  too  much 
like  a  jail;  if  the  palace  stood  in  a  narrow  street, 
this  impression  might  be  justified;  but  placed  as  it 
is  on  an  eminence,  its  profile  is  majestic  and  stern 
without  seeming  too  forbidding.  For  its  size,  the 
ruggedness  is  not  too  pronounced.  The  separate 
stones  of  which  it  is  built  are  enormous;  but  there 
are  so  many  of  them,  that  they  do  not  strike  the 
beholder  as  presenting  more  than  a  good  bold  sur- 
face. Some  of  the  single  blocks  among  those  which 
help  to  support  the  terraces  are  monoliths  as  long 
as  five  men.  They  are  as  little  worked  as  is  con- 
sistent with  an  approximately  flat  surface;  they 
were  hewn  roughly  from  the  quarry.  Their  colour 
is  dark  gray,  which  adds  to  the  rugged  effect  of 
the  pile.  The  whole  front  as  it  stands  to-day  is 
475  feet  long;  the  distance  from  the  centre  of  one 
window  to  the  centre  of  the  next  is  twenty-four  feet. 

The  fagade  is  unornamented.  There  are  balus- 
trades which  run  at  the  top  of  the  three  stories, 
enclosing  three  balconies,  which  appear  in  proportion 
to  be  hardly  more  than  string-courses. 

Leader  Scott  remarks  that  "  in  the  building  as  it 
now  stands  there  is  great  want  of  balance.  The 
immense  length,  in  proportion  to  its  height,  has 
disastrously  exaggerated  the  horizontal  lines."    This 


UNIVERSITY  OP  CIllFflRHIA 

DEPARTMENT  UF 

UNIVERSITY  EXTEXSION/ 


3Luca  pitti  anb  t)ts  palace  23 

is  owing  to  the  later  additions  to  the  plan.  In  the 
fagade  are  no  vertical  divisions  except  such  articu- 
lations as  the  constant  repeat  of  the  round-arched 
windows  indicate.  Each  storey  is  forty  feet  in 
height,  and  the  arches  twelve  feet  across.  These 
three  storeys  should  properly  have  been  surmounted 
by  a  heavy  cornice^  as  is  the  Strozzi  Palace,  —  what 
Ruskin  calls  ''  a  solemn  frown  of  projection,  not 
a  scowl,  as  in  the  Palazzo  Vecchio."  Judging  from 
Brunelleschi's  sketch,  however,  it  was  to  have  been 
topped  with  an  open  loggia. 

Bartolommeo  Ammanati,  who  built  the  bridge 
known  as  Ponte  Trinita,  was  engaged  to  continue 
the  building  in  the  sixteenth  century.  By  that  time 
the  palace  had  passed  into  the  possession  of  the 
Medici,  and  has  ever  since  been  the  royal  residence 
in  Florence. 

Buonacorsi  Pitti^  a  grandson  of  Luca,  was  living 
there  in  1529,  as  head  of  the  family;  but,  being 
heavily  in  debt,  he  decided  to  sell  the  place.  So 
Cosimo  I.  de  Medici  bought  it  for  his  wife  Eleanor 
of  Toledo,  in  1549,  together  with  all  its  grounds,  an 
orchard,  and  several  large  farms.  He  moved  into 
the  palace,  with  his  family  and  his  court,  on  May 
15,  1550. 

The  building  which  Ammanati  added  about  1568 
to  the  original  structure  was  the  whole  cortile,  and 


24  Zhc  Hrt  ot  tbe  pitti  palace 

the  garden  front^  and  also  the  wings  to  the  second 
floor. 

Succeeding  owners  continued  to  enlarge  the 
palace,  especially  Grand  Dukes  Cosimo  II.  and  Fer- 
dinand 11. ,  who  inaugurated  several  changes  between 
1620  and  1 63 1. 

The  palace  was  not  extended  to  its  full  length 
until  1640,  Giulio  and  Alphonso  Parigi  designing 
the  continuance  of  the  facade. 

The  wings,  which  advance  far  into  the  open, 
crater-like  piazza  in  front  of  the  house,  were  added, 
between  1768  and  1839,  under  the  auspices  of  the 
Lorraine  family,  by  the  architect  Poccianti. 

While  Bartolommeo  Ammanati  was  building  the 
cortile,  the  reigning  grand  duke  evidently  thought 
fit  also  to  do  away  with  certain  feudal  expressions 
about  the  house:  in  the  ground  floor,  which  had 
never  had  any  windows,  but  was  a  simple,  fortress- 
like structure,  round-arched  windows  were  intro- 
duced at  intervals.  It  is  quite  remarkable  that  this 
proceeding  did  not  weaken  the  superstructure,  but 
the  effort  to  relieve  the  gloom  of  the  bare,  straight 
wall  seems  to  have  succeeded. 

The  back  of  the  Pitti  Palace  displays  the  first 
use  of  the  style  called  "  rustication."  The  gigantic 
free-stone  blocks  are  placed  one  above  another  in 
the  pilasters,  first  a  large  and  then  a  small  one, 
giving  a  peculiar  effect  of  reticulation  to  the  edges, 


3Luca  pitti  anb  "fcts  palace  25 

which,  in  lines  of  support,  are  usually  smooth  and 
straight.  To  an  extent  this  form  of  treatment  might 
be  regarded  as  decoration;  but  it  is  of  a  sturdiness 
which  defies  elaboration  and  has  never  been  ex- 
celled in  majesty  of  effect.  Ruskin^  who  greatly 
detested  most  of  the  forms  in  which  Renaissance 
architecture  chose  to  disport  itself,  expresses  him- 
self most  warmly  in  admiring  this  noble  pile,  saying, 
"  His  eye  must  be  delicate  indeed  who  would  desire 
to  see  the  Pitti  Palace  polished !  "  and  again  he 
alludes  to  its  "  noble  rudeness,"  which  may  be  op- 
posed to  both  "  the  useless  polish  and  barbarous 
rustications  of  modern  times."  Ruskin  outlines  his 
principles  on  the  subject  of  these  stones  in  the  Pitti 
in  the  following  passage :  "  As  in  higher  works  of 
art,  the  pleasure  of  their  hasty  or  imperfect  exe- 
cution is  not  indicative  of  their  beauty,  but  of  their 
majesty  and  fulness  of  thought  and  vastness  of 
power.  Negligence  is  only  noble  when  it  is,  as 
Fuseli  hath  it,  '  the  shadow  of  energy.'  Sufficiency 
to  purpose  is  the  test  of  some  forms  of  work ;  beauty 
IS  not  always  the  ideal  arrived  at,  as,  for  instance, 
the  stones  of  the  foundations  of  the  Pitti  Palace." 

George  Eliot  speaks  of  the  Pitti  Palace  as  "  a  won- 
derful union  of  Cyclopean  massiveness  with  stately 
regularity."  This  is  a  very  apt  expression  regarding 
the  fagade,  the  whole  stateliness  of  which,  aside 


26  Zbc  Hrt  of  tbe  pttti  K^alace 

from  the  consideration  of  its  size,  lies  in  the  solemn 
repeat  of  its  well-proportioned  arches. 

One  striking  feature,  which  amounts  almost  to  a 
decorative  motive,  is  the  extreme  depth  of  the  vous- 
soirs  of  the  arches;  the  great  wedge-shaped  stones 
are  arranged  like  gigantic  fans  over  each  window, 
spreading  so  far  on  either  side  that  they  nearly 
meet.  These  bold  arches  over  the  windows  con- 
stitute the  leading  feature  in  the  impression  which 
is  carried  away  by  most  observers  who  have  not 
been  specially  trained  to  a  study  of  architecture. 

The  taste  displayed  in  the  ground  floor  windows 
is  not  pleasing,  for  they  are  of  a  thin  Renaissance 
design,  with  pediments,  and  are  supported  on  con- 
soles, between  which  are  carved  heads  of  lions,  with 
what  are  usually  called  "  crowns  "  (but  which  are  in 
reality  ducal  caps)  upon  their  heads.  From  the 
open  mouth  of  one  of  these  lions  flows  the  purest 
water  in  the  city;  it  comes  from  the  far-away  hill- 
country  of  Pratolino.  It  is  also  unfortunate  that 
the  exigencies  of  modern  conditions  have  made  it 
necessary  to  fill  the  dignified  arched  windows  all 
over  the  fagade  with  hideous  square  inner  case- 
ments and  panes.  Brunelleschi  had  planned  to  have 
each  large  arch  subdivided  and  filled  with  two 
smaller  ones,  with  a  column  in  the  centre  as  is  seen 
in  the  Pazzi  Palace. 

Professor  Conti  has  discovered  also  that  all  the 


00^^ 


^\ 


ktmen*  ^'^ 


Xuca  JMtti  anb  Ibis  ff^alace  27 

arches  of  the  basement  were  originally  doors  instead 
of  windows.  Among  the  tests  which  he  applied 
was  that  of  observing  the  ceilings  in  the  interior. 
The  rooms  between  these  openings  have  vaulted 
ceilings,  while  those  into  which  the  openings  were 
cut  have  plain  barrel-vaults,  showing  that  doors  had 
been  used  to  give  ingress  to  them  direct.  On  the 
outside,  too,  may  still  be  seen  the  iron  staples  on 
which  the  hinges  of  the  doors  used  to  swing. 

The  three  balustrades  across  the  front  show  de- 
based Ionic  capitals  on  each  baluster.  Below  the 
balustrades  are  heavy  moulded  string-courses,  which 
cast  some  shadow,  but,  owing  to  the  length  which 
they  have  to  travel,  it  is  hard  to  realize  how  great 
is  really  their  projection. 

In  the  back,  or  garden-front,  as  it  is  often  called, 
of  the  Pitti  Palace,  extensive  spaces  are  laid  out 
and  enclosed  by  the  great  walls  of  the  building. 
It  would  seem  as  if  the  front  of  the  palace  were 
lavish  enough  in  its  use  of  large  stones;  but  on 
the  other  side  they  are  almost  as  numerous. 

Here  is  a  great  open  square  courtyard,  or  cortile, 
like  that  at  the  Farnese  Palace  in  Rome,  and  this  is 
surrounded  on  three  sides  by  the  building;  while 
on  the  fourth  side  is  a  stone  terrace  one  storey  high, 
serving  as  a  connecting  link  between  the  palace  and 
the  Boboli  Gardens  which  lie  beyond.  This  is  the 
largest  cortile  in  Florence,  and  is  part  of  Brunei- 


28  Ubc  Hrt  ot  tbe  pitti  ipalacc 

leschi's  original  building^  although  added  to  later 
by  Ammanati.  The  reticulated  effect  of  the  rus- 
tication here  predominates,  and  is  the  first  obvious 
quality  in  the  work,  just  as  the  deep  voussoirs,  on  a 
flatter  plane,  were  the  leading  characteristics  of 
the  fagade.  The  three  storeys  are  ornamented  with 
applied  orders  and  repeating  arches.  On  the  base- 
ment the  capitals  are  Doric;  on  the  second  floor, 
Ionic;  and  on  the  third,  Corinthian.  The  effect 
of  columns,  however,  is  practically  lost,  owing  to  the 
fact  that  the  rustication  is  carried  on  up  and  down 
the  shaft,  reducing  it  to  a  vertebrate  pile  of  small 
and  large  stones  in  alternating  courses,  so  that 
the  feeling  of  vertical  rib-support  usually  given  by 
pilasters  is  lacking.  The  heavily  projecting  string- 
courses continue  the  horizontal  effect  which  pre- 
dominates on  the  other  facade.  The  windows  set 
within  heavy  arches  are  headed  alternately,  square 
and  round.  On  the  keystones  of  the  arches  are 
carvings  in  the  spirit  of  Renaissance  grotesque, 
each  stone  showing  a  shield  or  some  pseudo^-human 
device. 

On  the  second  floor  the  stones  of  the  rustications 
are  cut  square;  on  the  third  storey,  they  are  elab- 
orately rounded  off ;  the  effect  of  the  second  storey 
is  that  of  piled-up  boxes,  and  the  third,  of  piled-up 
cushions.  On  such  an  enormous  scale  these  features 
pass  muster;    but,  considered  in  detail,  it  would 


Xuca  pittt  an^  Ibis  palace  29 

be  difficult  to  decide  which  was  worse.  There  is 
no  comparison  between  the  masonry  of  the  main 
faqade  and  that  of  the  garden  front;  the  first  is 
so  far  superior  both  in  sincerity  of  intention  and 
in  proportion.  But  the  garden  front  usually  appeals 
more  to  the  popular  idea  of  grandeur,  and  must 
have  puffed  up  mightily  the  soul  of  Luca  Pitti. 

On  the  terrace  is  a  handsome  and  showy  foun- 
tain, the  ample  basin  of  which  is  surrounded  by 
those  mythological  beings  usually  denominated 
"  putti,"  —  figures  of  perpetual  youth,  masquerading 
as  infants  versed  in  worldly  wisdom^  a  cross  between 
a  cupid  and  an  infant  prodigy.  Eight  of  these 
are  here  to  be  seen  perched  in  Delsartean  attitudes 
around  the  edge  of  the  basin.  This  fountain  is 
raised  on  several  steps,  and  is  octagonal  in  shape. 
In  the  midst  are  some  strenuous  sea-gods  and  mer- 
maids writhing  in  the  effort  to  sustain  a  series  of 
smaller  flat  stone  basins,  into  which  the  water  plays. 
The  usual  allowance  of  dolphins  may  be  detected 
in  this  design,  which  is  restless  and  inadequate  in 
detail,  and  yet  has  withal  the  general  large  effective- 
ness which  is  so  characteristic  of  the  developed 
Renaissance. 

The  Misses  Homer,  in  their  delightful  "  Walks  in 
Florence,"  describe  a  mule  in  black  marble  at  one 
end  of  the  surrounding  colonnade,  saying  naively 
that  it  is  supposed  to  commemorate  the  animal  who 


30  Ube  Hrt  ot  tbe  pttti  palace 

carried  the  materials  for  the  building  of  the  palace. 
If  a  single  mule  was  responsible  for  the  conveyance 
of  these  stones^  he  certainly  deserves  recognition ! 

Considering  how  many  hands  have  been  at  work 
on  the  Pitti  Palace,  and  how  many  heads  have 
contributed  ideas  and  designs  for  its  amplification 
in  the  centuries  between  its  first  erection  and  the 
present  day,  it  is  hardly  correct  to  call  it,  as  a  com- 
plete whole,  the  work  of  Brunelleschi. 

It  is  interesting  to  note  what  various  appreciative 
men  have  written  about  the  palace  in  different  peri- 
ods :  James  Howell,  the  clerk  of  the  English  Privy 
Council,  who  saw  it  under  the  reign  of  Ferdinand 
11. ,  in  1 62 1,  and  Joseph  Addison,  who  was  there 
in  1702. 

"  The  duke's  palace,"  says  Howell,  "  is  so  spacious 
that  it  occupieth  the  room  of  fifty  houses  at  the 
least." 

Joseph  Addison,  the  great  British  essayist,  says 
in  his  "  Remarks  on  Italy  "  :  "  .  .  .  There  are  some 
beautiful  palaces  in  Florence :  and,  as  Tuscan  pillars 
and  rustic  work  owe  their  origin  to  this  country, 
the  architects  always  take  care  to  give  them  a  place 
in  the  great  edifices  that  are  raised  in  Tuscany. 
The  duke's  new  palace  is  a  very  noble  pile,  built 
after  this  manner,  which  makes  it  look  extremely 
solid  and  majestic.  It  is  not  unlike  that  of  the 
Luxembourg  at  Paris,  which  was  built  by  Marie 


Xuca  ipitti  anb  Dts  palace  31 

de  Medici,  and  for  that  reason,  perhaps,  the  work- 
men fell  into  the  Tuscan  humour.  .  .  .  There  are 
abundance  of  pictures  in  the  several  apartments, 
by  the  hands  of  the  greatest  masters." 


CHAPTER   II. 

THE   GROWTH   OF   THE   COLLECTION 

When  Pitti  built  his  palace  it  was  with  no  inten- 
tion of  making  it  the  home  of  a  great  collection 
of  art  treasures;  it  was  to  be  his  private  residence 
made  beautiful  and  attractive  for  his  personal  use. 
Beyond  the  decoration  of  the  rooms,  he  added  no 
significant  pictures  which  have  survived.  The 
growth  of  the  collection  of  paintings  which  now 
adorn  the  palace  was  a  process  of  generations.  The 
different  owners  gradually  added  paintings  that  ap- 
pealed to  their  taste;  these  accumulated  in  such 
numbers  from  time  to  time  that  at  last  the  palace 
became  a  gallery  of  art  hardly  second  to  any  in 
Europe.  At  first  without  deliberation,  then  con- 
sciously, with  the  aim  of  making  a  great  collection, 
the  palace  was  developed  into  a  treasure-house  of 
artistic  excellence. 

The  first  stage  in  the  growth  of  the  collection 
was  begun  when  the  palace  passed  from  the  hands 
of  the  Pitti  family  into  those  of  the  Medici.    This 

32 


tlbe  Growtb  ot  tbe  Collection        33 

transfer  was  made  when  Buonacorso  Pitti,  a  grand- 
son of  Luca,  finding  himself  without  the  wealth 
necessary  to  maintain  so  vast  an  establishment,  sold 
it  in  1549  to  the  first  Grand  Duke  of  Tuscany, 
Cosimo  I.  de  Medici  (15 19-1574),  for  his  wife, 
Eleanor  de  Toledo. 

Tlie  Medicean  acquisition  of  the  property  marked 
a  strange  combination  of  artistic  sense  with  glaring 
immorality,  which  characterized  the  subsequent 
occupants  of  the  palace. 

Cosimo  I.  de  Medici  was  a  great  patron  of  art 
and  a  leader  in  all  but  ethical  matters.  He  is  re- 
membered for  the  most  brutal  crime  perhaps  that 
any  of  the  Medici  ever  committed:  that  of  mur- 
dering his  own  son  in  the  presence  of  his  mother. 
There  have  been  many  episodes  of  horror  connected 
with  the  Medicean  rule,  but  none  more  cowardly 
and  heartless  than  this  act.  His  virtues,  whatever 
they  were^  must  pale  before  this  supreme  act  of  his 
evil  life;  however,  it  must  be  remembered  that 
Florence  owes  much  of  its  outward  beauty  to  the 
direct  influence  of  this  powerful  warrior  and  aesthete. 
Cosimo  I.  was  a  great  philanthropist.  Universities 
and  academies  were  built  and  endowed  by  him,  and 
he  patronized  all  the  liberal  arts.  Benvenuto  Cellini 
would  never  have  been  able  to  leave  so  great  a 
mark  on  the  art  of  his  time  if  it  had  not  been 
for  the  generous  friendship  of  Cosimo,  who  appre- 


34  Ube  Hrt  ot  tbe  ipittt  palace 

dated  the  wild  nature  in  which  he  recognized  some- 
thing akin  to  his  own.  The  Palazzo  Vecchio  owes 
much  of  its  solemn  grandeur  to  Cosimo's  additions. 
He  built  various  arcades  and  loggias  in  Florence: 
those  public  shelters  where  the  citizens  might  meet 
for  discussions  in  the  open  air,  protected  from 
the  glare  and  heat  of  the  sun.  And  yet  this  man 
found  it  in  his  heart  to  murder  his  own  son.  This 
son,  though  but  a  youth,  had  shown  sufficient  hered- 
itary taint  to  make  it  possible  for  him  already  to 
have  murdered  his  own  brother.  From  father  to  son 
this  lust  for  blood  seems  to  have  been  one  of  the 
inheritances  of  this  terrible  family,  as  well  as  their 
keen  appreciation  for  the  beautiful  things  of  life. 

Cosimo  I.  may  be  said  to  have  begun  the  collec- 
tion in  the  Pitti  Palace,  for,  having  bought  it,  he 
bequeathed  it  to  his  successors^  who  carried  out  his 
ideas  in  the  accumulation  of  artistic  things. 

Francesco  I.  (1541—1581),  the  son  of  Cosimo, 
succeeded  his  father  as  second  grand  duke,  and  con- 
tinued to  reign  in  the  Pitti  Palace.  He  was  not 
as  great  a  man  as  his  father,  but  he  was  equally 
famous  as  a  patron  of  art.  A  student  of  many 
sciences,  his  love  for  letters  and  art  was  one  of 
the  ruling  passions  of  his  life.  He  was  an  expert 
chemist,  and  frequently  received  his  secretaries  of 
state  when  he  stood  before  the  furnaces  in  his  labor- 
atory.    It  was  Francesco  I.  whoi  founded  the  Uffizi 


Ube  Growtb  ot  tbe  Collection        35 

Gallery  and  encouraged  the  rising  artists  of  his 
time,  especially  Giovanni  da  Bologna,  who  executed 
for  him  the  celebrated  group  of  the  Rape  of  the 
Sabines,  which  now  stands  in  the  Loggia  di  Lanzi. 
Besides  the  other  additions  made  by  Francesco  to 
the  art  collections  of  the  Pitti,  two  are  particularly 
associated  with  the  history  of  his  Hfe :  one  the  por- 
trait of  Bianca  Capello,  and  the  other  the  statue 
of  his  Archduchess  Johanna  of  Austria,  made  by 
Giovanni  da  Bologna. 

The  name  of  Bianca  Capello  suggests  the  chief 
romance  of  Francesco's  life.  He  was  already  mar- 
ried to  his  rather  plain  Austrian  wife,  when  by 
chance  he  was  passing  through  the  Piazza  of  St. 
Marco  and  saw  a  very  beautiful  woman  looking 
out  of  a  window;  this  was  Bianca,  the  wife  of  a 
young  Florentine,  Pietro  Buonaventuri.  He  fell 
violently  in  love  with  her,  and,  after  the  death  of 
his  wife,  he  married  her.  The  statue  of  Johanna 
of  Austria,  which  now  stands  in  the  Boboli  Gardens, 
under  the  name  of  Abundance,  was  begun  by  Gio- 
vanni da  Bologna  at  the  request  of  Francesco,  but 
when  the  fickle  grand  duke  met  Bianca,  he  counter- 
manded the  order,  and  the  statue  was  left  unfinished 
until  Ferdinand  had  it  completed  by  a  pupil  of  the 
sculptor,  named  Tacca.  This  statue  is  really  a  monu- 
ment to  the  unfaithfulness  of  Francesco.  The  por- 
trait of  Bianca,  which  hangs  in  the  Pitti  Palace, 


36  XTbe  Hrt  of  tbe  pitti  Ipalace 

recalls  the  further  fact  that  she  and  Francesco  died 
on  the  same  day,  probably  poisoned  by  Ferdinand, 
who  immediately  ascended  the  ducal  throne :  so,  by 
common  report,  Ferdinand  became  the  murderer 
of  his  brother  and  his  sister-in-law. 

The  ramifications  of  family  murders  among  the 
Medici  are  as  numerous  and  as  involved  as  their 
genealogy.  Murder  was  as  common  with  them  as 
birth,  —  more  common  than  natural  death.  The 
evil  and  cruel  tendencies  of  the  family  finally  seemed 
to  pass  away,  for  the  latest  members  of  the  family 
were  comparatively  moral ;  this  seems  to  contradict 
the  dogma  of  heredity,  but  it  was  parallel  to  the 
swan-song,  and  typical  of  the  exotic,  for  no  sooner 
had  the  Medici  turned  into  an  honest  family  than 
they  died  out. 

Ferdinand  I.  (1549—1609)  proved  to  be  a  better 
man  than  the  outset  of  his  rule  indicated.  On  the 
whole  his  career  was  a  benefit  to  Florence.  He  was 
the  purchaser  of  many  valuable  works  of  art  and  the 
founder  of  the  Villa  Medici  at  Rome.  Many  of  his 
artistic  treasures  he  brought  to  Florence,  and  housed 
them  in  the  Uffizi  and  the  Pitti  Palace.  The  Niobe 
group  was  bought  by  him.  He  married  a  princess 
of  Lorraine,  and  thus  introduced  a  new  strain  into 
the  blood,  and  improved  the  inheritance.  This  in- 
heritance exhibited  itself  in  the  negatively  good  but 
invertebrate  Cosimo  H.  (1590— 1621).    This  kindly 


XLtc  (Browtb  of  tbe  Collection        37 

man  turned  his  attention  to  crusades  out  of  season, 
with  small  result.  He  was  also  a  collector  of  paint- 
ings, all  of  which  came  finally  to  the  Pitti  Palace. 
Matteo  de  Medici,  a  son  of  Cosimo,  born  in  16 13, 
was  a  great  general  in  the  Imperial  army,  and  had 
apartments  in  the  Pitti,  and  collected  art  treasures 
with  which  he  enriched  the  galleries. 

The  Grand  Duke  Ferdinand  II.,  the  son  of 
Cosimo  11. ,  lived  between  1610  and  1670.  He  mar- 
ried his  cousin,  the  Princess  Vittoria  della  Rovere, 
and  through  her  endowed  the  gallery  with  all  the 
great  collection  of  her  father,  Duke  Federigo  of 
Urbino,  and  also  gave  the  collection  of  Cosimo  II., 
his  father,  for  the  same  purpose.  These  paintings 
had  hung,  up  to  this  time^  in  the  Uffizi.  During  the 
reign  of  Ferdinand  11.  Italy  was  selected  as  a  battle- 
field by  the  French,  Spaniards,  and  Germans,  who 
indulged  in  wars  and  rumours  of  wars  with  un- 
ceasing pertinacity,  invading  Italy  for  the  purpose 
of  settling  their  own  disputes.  Ferdinand  did  what 
he  could  to  protect  the  arts  in  these  troublous  times, 
befriending,  among  others,  Galileo,  whom  the  Pope 
and  inquisitors  had  attacked. 

He  was  followed  by  Cosimo  III.,  who  had  his 
hands  quite  full  enough  in  repairing  the  ravages 
of  the  war  and  famine  of  his  father's  reign.  Al- 
though, like  some  other  pious  people,  he  succeeded 
in  antagonizing  his  wife  to  such  a  degree  that  she 


38  Ubc  art  ot  tbe  pittt  palace 

returned  to  her  home  in  France,  he  was  nevertheless 
addicted  to  good  works  outside  the  immediate  fam- 
ily. Yet  withal  he  levied  fearful  taxes  upon  his 
subjects,  but  they  were  probably  tired  of  rebelling 
against  imposition,  and  his  reign  was  on  the  whole 
a  peaceful  one. 

With  the  son  of  this  philanthropic  gentleman 
the  family  of  Medici  became  extinct. 

By  the  Treaty  of  London,  in  1718,  and  through 
various  other  political  complications,  which  are  aside 
from  our  purpose,  the  Grand  Duchy  of  Tuscany 
passed  into  the  hands  of  Francis  II.  of  Lorraine. 
Under  Francis  11. ,  twenty  or  more  of  the  salons  in 
the  Pitti  were  rearranged  and  filled  with  pictures; 
and  the  Pitti  Palace  was  finally  organized  as  a  rec- 
ognized gallery  about  1798. 

The  decorations  of  the  various  salons  had  been 
progressing  since  the  days  when  Pietro  da  Cortona 
commenced  work  in  the  Pitti.  He  and  Cino  Ferri, 
superintended  in  their  work  by  Michelangelo  Buon- 
arotti  the  Younger,  decorated  five  halls,  dedicating 
each  in  the  flamboyant  manner  and  style  of  the 
day  to  some  divinity  of  Olympus,  which,  in  turn, 
had  been  chosen  as  being  typical  of  some  virtue 
accredited  to  Cosimo  I.  Thus^  one  hall  was  called 
the  Hall  of  Saturn,  and  was  supposed  to  symbolize 
maturity ;  another,  the  Hall  of  Jupiter,  from  which 
one  was  intended  to  infer  that  great  majesty  was 


Ube  6rowtb  ot  tbe  Collection        39 

an  attribute  of  Cosimo;  after  that^  the  Hall  of 
Mars,  symbolizing  energy  (which  none  will  deny 
to  have  characterized  the  first  grand  duke) ;  the 
Hall  of  Venus,  supposed  to  convey  the  suggestion 
of  sweetness  of  disposition  (regarding  which  attri- 
bute there  might  be  a  difference  of  opinion)  ;  the 
Hall  of  Apollo  was  painted  to  typify  the  splendour 
of  Duke  CosimO',  which  he  certainly  held  unchal- 
lenged. 

As  that  enchanting  old  writer  and  traveller,  Dr. 
John  Moore,  expresses  it,  ''  There  is  more  fancy 
than  taste  displayed  in  those  paintings."  The  quaint 
doctor  goes  on  to  speak  of  the  subjects  chosen, 
treating  them  in  his  usual  humourous  vein :  "  The 
subjects  are  different  from  what  is  naturally  ex- 
pected from  the  name  of  the  room^  being  representa- 
tions of  the  triumph  of  Virtue  over  Love,  or  some 
other  memorable  instance  of  continency.  As  the 
Medici  family  have  been  more  distinguished  for  the 
protection  they  afforded  the  arts  than  for  the  virtues 
of  continency  and  self-denial,  it  is  probable  that  the 
subject  was  left  entirely  to  the  painter." 

The  dukes  of  the  family  of  Lorraine  ruled  Flor- 
ence wisely.  This  first  duke,  Francis  H.,  afterwards 
left  the  duchy  and  married  Maria  Theresa  of  Aus- 
tria, thereby  becoming  emperor  consort.  But  their 
son,  Pietro  Leopold,  returned  to  govern  Florence  in 
1763,  and  proved  to  be  a  great  reformer,  living  to 


40  Ube  Hrt  ot  tbe  ptttt  palace 

the  end  of  the  eighteenth  century.  Tuscany  became 
under  his  rule  an  Austrian  province.  He  and  his 
mother  appear,  however^  to  have  had  rather  stern 
and  Puritanic  tastes  in  art.  Sir  Horace  Mann,  in  his 
letters  to  Walpole,  inveighs  against  this  strictness, 
which  was  really  only  the  natural  reaction  from  the 
libertinage  which  had  so  long  been  in  the  ascendency. 
He  writes  of  the  ill-taste  of  one  Botta,  who  was  the 
Grand-Maistre  at  this  period,  and  who,  in  1763, 
spoiled  rather  than  improved  the  Pitti  Palace.  "  He 
has  made  sad  work,"  Mann  remarks,  "  with  the 
palace,  and  in  the  garden.  His  arrangement  of  the 
pictures  is  to  make  it  depend  first  upon  the  fresh- 
ness of  the  gilding  upon  their  frames,  and  then  upon 
the  position  of  the  figures  in  each  picture,  which 
figures  must  not  turn  their  backs  upon  the  throne! 
Calvin  and  Luther,  by  Giorgione,  were  turned  out 
with  the  most  impious  contempt,  as  not  worthy  to 
stand  in  the  presence  of  so  orthodox  a  prince  as 
is  coming  here!  His  mother  (Maria  Theresa)  will 
not  allow  any  picture  to  hang  in  her  department 
that  shows  either  a  naked  leg  or  an  arm!  This  ill 
agrees  with  the  Medici  taste  of  the  collection  they 
have  left.  Imagine  that  grave  matron  running  the 
gauntlet  of  the  gallery !  "  Later,  Mann  writes,  "  A 
famous  picture  by  Titian  was  turned  out  of  the  room 
where  the  canopy  is,  because  the  figures  almost 
turned  their  backs  to  it;  the  picture  of  Calvin  and 


Zbc  (Browtb  ot  tbe  Collection        41 

Luther  has  been  dismissed  with  CathoHc  fury,  and, 
I  fear,  will  find  no  better  place  than  in  that  horrid, 
ill-painted  hall  at  the  end  of  the  apartment,  that 
the  young  prince  may  see  how  the  enemies  of  the 
Church  ought  to  be  treated !  " 

When  Grand  Duke  Pietro  Leopold  came  to  the 
Pitti  Palace  in  1765,  a  new  era  began  in  the  patron- 
age of  the  arts  in  Florence.  For  some  reigns  there 
had  been  no  special  decorations  added  in  the  salons ; 
but  now,  according  to  the  Abbate  Luigi  Lanzi,  ''  the 
palace  and  royal  villas  were  repaired  and  embellished, 
and,  amid  the  succession  of  undertakings  that  at- 
tracted the  best  artists,  painting  was  continually 
promoted."  If  we  do  not  agree  that  this  was  an 
age  of  great  progress  in  art,  we  must  perforce  admit 
it  was  a  time  of  great  industry  and  activity;  this 
prince  is  reported  to  have  "  weeded  "  the  Pitti  col- 
lection, and  to  have  added  many  new  gems  in  place 
of  those  which  he  had  discarded. 

Ferdinand  IIL  also  protected  the  arts  after  the 
manner  of  his  taste,  and  according  to  the  light  of 
the  generation  in  which  he  lived.  He  finished  the 
right  wing  of  the  Pitti  Palace,  and  added  many 
Venetian  pictures,  and  also  some  French  ones. 

Later,  under  the  regency  of  the  queen  mother, 
Marie  Louise,  the  arts  flourished  still  more  bril- 
liantly ;  and  Lanzi  tells,  as  a  contemporaneous  event, 
how  "  Canova  has  been  requested  to  produce  a  new 


4a  Ube  Hrt  of  tbe  pttti  ipalace 

statue  of  Venus,  a  model  of  the  Medicean,  lost  to 
us  by  chance  of  war."  During  the  Napoleonic  wars 
sixty-three  of  the  choicest  pictures  from  the  gallery, 
not  to  mention  the  statue  of  the  Venus  de  Medici, 
and  twenty-two  tables  of  malachite,  porphyry,  and 
such  materials,  had  been  taken  to  Paris.  By  1815 
fifty-six  of  these  were  returned. 

In  18 18  the  Galleria  Gerini,  a  famous  collection 
of  paintings,  was  dispersed,  and  purchases  were 
made  from  among  these  gems  to  the  amount  of 
fifty-two  thousand  francs.  These  additions  sug- 
gested the  need  for  more  room  in  the  Pitti  Gallery, 
and  in  18 19  the  Hall  of  the  Iliad  was  decorated  by 
Sabatelli  for  the  purpose  of  enlargement. 

Finally,  after  all  these  vicissitudes,  the  Pitti 
Palace  saw  a  marvellous  change.  It  saw  a  grand 
duke  fleeing,  returning,  and  fleeing  again,  as  the 
popular  feeling  urged  him.  The  last  of  Tuscany's 
grand  dukes,  Leopold  II.,  came  to  the  throne  in 
1824.  Under  him  the  Pitti  was  thrown  open  to 
the  public  in  1833.  Leopold  was  a  man  of  rather 
mild  and  fluctuating  principles,  interested  in  the 
arts  and  sciences,  but  not  of  stern  enough  stuff  to 
cope  with  Tuscan  politics.  The  people  became  dis- 
contented, and  Leopold  seems  to  have  thought  it 
better  to  leave  them  than  to  argue  with  them.  In 
"  Casa  Guidi  Windows,"  Mrs.  Browning,  living 
opposite  the  Pitti  Palace,  relates  much  of  this  strange 


Ubc  Orowtb  ot  tbe  Collection        43 

transition  period  in  Italian  history.  She  describes 
the  grand  duke: 

"  I  like  his  face.     The  forehead's  build 
Has  no  capacious  genius,  yet  perhaps 
Sufficient  comprehension,  mild,  and  sad. 
And  careful  nobly ;  —  not  with  care  that  wraps 
Self -loving  hearts,  to  stifle  and  make  mad, 
But  careful  with  a  care  that  shuns  a  lapse 
Of  faith  and  duty,  studious  not  to  add 
A  burden  in  the  gathering  of  a  gain. 
And  so  God  save  the  Duke,  I  say  with  those 
Who  that  day  shouted  it." 

But  the  duke  was  vacillating  and  weak.  Frightened 
at  the  expectations  of  the  people  and  the  responsibil- 
ities of  his  ofBce,  he  fled  ignominiously  in   1848. 

"  From  Casa  Guidi  windows  I  looked  out, 
Again  looked,  and  beheld  a  different  sight. 
The  Duke  had  fled  before  the  people's  shout 

*;Long  live  the  Duke  !  '  " 

Perhaps  the  crowning  disappointment  in  this  volatile 
leader  was  experienced  when  he  returned  in  a  year, 
guarded  by  Austrians,  afraid  to  face  the  people 
whom  he  had  wronged. 

"  From  Casa  Guidi  windows  gazing  then 
I  saw  and  witness  how  the  Duke  came  back. 
The  regular  tramp  of  horses  and  tread  of  men 
Did  smite  the  silence  like  an  anvil  black 
And  sparkless.  .  .  . 

Then  gazing,  I  beheld  the  long-drawn  street 
Live  out  from  end  to  end  full  in  the  sun 
With  Austria's  thousands.'* 


44  Ube  Htt  of  tbe  DMttt  palace 

A  pitiful  ending  to  a  grand  duchy;  for  Tuscany 
never  accepted  another  grand  duke.  After  Leopold, 
Tuscany  became  a  part  of  United  Italy  in  i860. 
But  the  Pitti  Palace  was,  and  still  is,  the  royal  resi- 
dence whenever  the  king  goes  to  Florence.  Its  chief 
claim  to  distinction  to-day  is  an  artistic  rather  than 
an  historic  one. 

In  the  Pitti  Palace,  under  the  guidance  of  the 
Cardinal  Leopold  de  Medici,  the  celebrated  Platonic 
Academy  was  refounded,  the  original  founder  hav- 
ing been  Lorenzo  the  Magnificent.  Encouraged  by 
the  success  of  this  undertaking,  this  prelate  inter- 
ested the  grand  duke,  Ferdinand  II.,  his  brother,  to 
found  the  valuable  Academy  del  Cimento,  in  1657. 
The  meetings  were  held  in  the  royal  apartments  of 
the  Pitti,  and  among  its  members  were  Magalotti, 
Torricelli,  Viviani,  Rucellai,  Borelli,  and  other  noted 
men  of  the  day.  It  is  said  that  through  the  in- 
fluence of  their  experimental  philosophy,  the  acad- 
emies in  France  and  England  were  commenced. 

Many  famous  spectacular  entertainments  were 
given  at  the  Pitti.  When  Cosimo  I.  married  his 
daughter  Lucrezia  to  Prince  Alphonse  d'Este,  a 
scenic  performance  in  the  line  of  opera,  or,  rather,  a 
drama  with  music,  by  Francesco  Corteccia,  was  pre- 
sented. This  is  considered  to  have  been  the  first 
combination  of  music  and  acting  in  Europe.  In 
April,     1600,    when    Marie    de    Medici    married 


Zbc  Gxovotb  ot  tbe  (ToUection        4S 

Henry  IV.  of  France,  a  second  spectacle  with  music, 
entitled  "  Euridice,"  written  by  Octavio  Rinuccini 
and  composed  by  Jacopo  Peri,  literally  proved  to  be 
the  birth  of  Italian  opera,  introducing  for  the  first 
time  the  Recitative.  It  is  interesting  for  music- 
lovers  to  connect  the  Pitti  Palace  with  the  originals 
of  Italian  operatic  art. 


CHAPTER   III. 


THE   HALL   OF   VENUS 


The  best  way  to  study  the  paintings  in  the  Pitti 
Palace  is  to  examine  them  room  by  room.  Though 
this  plan  of  grouping  the  pictures  in  moderately 
sized  rooms  is  often  arbitrary,  as  it  must  be,  since 
there  are  fourteen  separate  apartments^  it  still  has 
the  advantage  of  detaching  a  few  masterpieces  from 
the  others  so  that  they  may  be  seen  in  a  measure 
by  themselves. 

The  official  catalogue  gives  the  Hall  of  Venus 
as  the  first  room ;  and,  though  this  is  not  the  room 
usually  entered  at  once,  it  serves  the  purpose  of 
introducing  the  visitor  immediately  into  the  presence 
of  several  of  the  greatest  paintings,  and  facilitates 
the  systematic  inspection  of  the  whole  gallery.  In 
the  Hall  of  Venus  we  are  confronted  at  once  by 
two  of  the  great  Venetians  of  the  Golden  Age  — 
Titian  and  Tintoretto. 

The  school  of  Venice  was  dominated  by  three 
names:    Titian,  Veronese,  and  Tintoretto.     Titian 

46 


XTbe  Iball  ot  IDenus  47 

lived  from  1477  to  1576;  Veronese  from  1528  to 
1588;  while  Tintoretto  was  not  born  until  1518, 
and,  living  to  a  ripe  old  age,  died  in  1594,  thus  out- 
living the  other  two. 

The  Italians  called  Tintoretto  the  "  thunderbolt '' 
of  painting;  he  expresses^  as  Symonds  points  out, 
"  moods  of  passion  and  emotion  by  brusque  Hghts, 
luminous  half-shadows,  and  semi-opaque  darkness." 
Veronese  supplemented  this  sterner  stuff  by  "  ele- 
vating pageantry  to  the  height  of  a  serious  art." 

Thus  these  three  together  show  all  the  excellences 
of  the  magic  spell  of  Venetian  art. 

The  Pitti  Palace  is  fortunate  in  having  so  repre- 
sentative and  so  satisfying  a  picture  by  Tintoretto 
as  the  Venus  and  Vulcan  with  Cupid.  Burckhardt 
says  that  it  is  "  hardly  to  be  matched  in  Venice; " 
and  Tintoretto  is  so  little  seen  outside  of  Venice, 
in  his  full  perfection,  that  this  picture  will 
repay  the  most  careful  study.  Human  flesh  has 
never  been  more  perfectly  painted;  the  figure  of 
the  recumbent  woman  is  delightful,  without  a  sug- 
gestion of  nakedness,  although  it  is  nude.  Mr. 
Kirkup  pronounces  this  "  the  most  perfect  repre- 
sentation of  the  human  flesh  which  the  art  of  paint- 
ing has  produced."  Venus  is  nude  as  the  Venus  de 
Milo  is  nude.  While  it  might  be  conceded  that 
the  head  is  hardly  ideal  enough  for  the  goddess  of 
beauty,   yet  the  whole  effect^   with  her  Venetian 


48  XTbe  Hrt  of  tbe  ptttt  palace 

hair-ornaments  of  pearls,  is  pleasing.  The  crouch- 
ing ngure  of  Vulcan,  represented  as  the  proud  father, 
is  beautifully  handled,  and  the  green  glow  of  the 
stuff  on  which  Venus  reclines  is  in  fine  contrast  with 
the  rich  flesh-tints. 

The  scene  is  almost  domestic.  The  father  is 
bending  over  the  mother  and  child  with  affection 
and  true  solicitude;  in  this  case  the  more  worldly- 
wise  of  the  family  holds  in  her  right  hand  a  quiver 
of  arrows,  which  she  is  about  to  entrust  to  the  keep- 
ing of  the  child,  presumably  first  instructing  him 
in  his  duties.  He  has  a  little  bow  in  his  hand,  and 
appears  to  be  listening  to  the  maternal  advice.  The 
picture  is  full  of  noon-light;  Phoebus's  chariot  is 
seen  in  the  clouds  nearly  above  the  tent,  outside 
of  which  the  family  has  gathered.  A  charming 
landscape  background  completes  the  picture.  This 
is  one  of  Tintoretto's  earlier  works^  and  the  colour 
is  in  his  most  cheerful  vein. 

Tintoretto  was  also  called  "  Furioso,"  for  there  is 
that  in  the  quality  of  his  work  which  sometimes 
betokens  a  positive  rage  of  zeal,  —  a  rapidity  of 
execution  born  of  impatience  to  see  the  whole  effect ; 
a  willingness  to  leave  the  effect  to  do  its  work  with- 
out any  further  attempt  to  finish  or  polish.  He  was 
a  great  Modem;  effect  was  sometimes  achieved  at 
the  expense  of  accuracy.  He  was  one  of  the  few 
great  geniuses  who  could  afford  to  slight  the  tech- 


OUl'AHTMENT  or 


Xlbe  Dall  ot  IDenus  49 

nical  requirements,  as  too  many  men  imagine  in 
their  conceit  that  they  can  do  to-day.  His  paint- 
ing of  women  shows  that  his  nature  was  not  volup- 
tuous, for  he  draws  refined  types  verging  rather 
on  the  mascuHne  than  on  the  feminine  in  their 
proportions.  He  combined  the  great  generous  mode 
of  treatment  with  the  mediaeval  purity  of  intention 
and  love  of  art  for  its  own  sake. 

Tintoretto's  imagination  is  sometimes  said  not 
to  be  poetic.  It  is  true  he  is  not  poetic  as  Tenny- 
son and  Longfellow  were  poetic;  but  as  Dante, 
Milton,  and  Browning  were  poetic,  so,  in  a  marked 
degree,  was  Tintoretto.  In  treating  the  human 
form  he  combined  a  feeling  for  the  colossal  with 
a  spirit  of  refinement  which  was  then  coming  into 
fashion;  so  that  his  women  are  often  slight  and 
graceful,  —  less  Junoesque  than  those  of  Michel- 
angelo. His  position  in  the  art  of  his  age  was 
similar  to  that  occupied  in  the  literature  of  our 
day  by  Tolstoi.  His  poetry  is  expressed  in  great 
masses  of  light  and  shade  instead  of  in  word-pic- 
tures. 

Tintoretto's  colour  is  difficult  to  characterize,  for 
his  feeling  for  colour  was  as  subtle  as  his  feeling 
for  form,  and  he  paints  sometimes  in  a  glad  warm 
glow,  and  sometimes  in  sombre  shadows,  according 
to  the  mood  inspired  by  his  subject.  As  a  general 
thing,  however,  his  colouring  is  not  sharp,  having 


so  XTbe  Hrt  of  tbe  iptttt  palace 

a  low  key  in  preference  to  a  high  one.  In  the 
numerous  portraits  by  Tintoretto  which  we  shall 
find  in  the  Pitti  Palace,  this  trait  of  neutrality  is 
observable.  Usually  his  colouring  does  not  obtrude 
upon  one;  one  might  say  that  in  this  he  is  closer 
to  actual  nature  than  the  other  Venetians,  for  he 
employs  chiefly,  whether  in  his  landscapes,  figures, 
or  flesh-tints,  such  colours  as  one  commonly  sees 
or  fails  to  notice  in  the  average  scene.  His  compo- 
sitions seldom  strike  one  as  intentional  harmonies 
in  colour. 

In  his  handling  he  varies  as  much  as  in  his  colour, 
using  every  style  of  treatment  from  delicate  per- 
fection of  detail  to  the  boldest  sweep  of  a  broad 
brush.  There  are  instances  of  his  having  painted 
trees  in  five  strokes  of  the  brush;  and  there  are 
also  instances  of  his  painting  a  series  of  beads  in 
a  head-dress  with  as  much  finish  and  elaboration 
as  Raphael  bestowed  upon  the  necklace  of  the  Donna 
Velata. 

The  facility  and  rapidity  of  Tintoretto's  exe- 
cution was  one  of  the  chief  reasons  for  his  pictures 
preserving  a  harmony  of  action  and  feeling  in  all 
parts.  They  were  painted,  generally,  while  the  mood 
was  on  him,  and  were  not  the  result  of  painstaking 
after-elaboration.  The  original  inspiration  was 
usually  carried  out  before  the  spontaneity  had  waned. 
Annibale  Caracci,  in  a  letter  from  Venice  written  to 


Ube  Iball  ot  IDenus  5^ 

his  cousin,  Louis  Caracci,  says  that  "  he  had  seen 
Tintoretto  sometimes  equal  to  Titian,  and  at  others 
much  below  Tintoret."  Evidently  his  rapid  work 
and  impulsive  rendering  of  the  passing  emotion 
sometimes  led  him  astray. 

The  Thunderbolt  seems  to  have  had  a  playful 
streak,  too.  A  patron  once  ordered  a  *'  St.  Jerome 
in  the  Forest,"  and  Tintoretto  painted  it  in  a  some- 
what usual  way,  placing  the  saint  in  a  slight  clear- 
ing, such  as  on©  would  be  apt  to  select  for  devotional 
purposes,  with  a  thick  background  and  surroundings 
of  trees.  When  the  patron  came  to  look  at  the  pic- 
ture, he  criticized  the  fact  that  St.  Jerome  was  not 
actually  in  the  woods,  and  asked  Tintoretto  to 
change  the  composition  in  this  particular.  So  when 
the  captious  customer  had  left  the  studio,  Tintoretto 
mixed  some  tempera,  and  painted  a  thick  growth  of 
foliage  over  the  figure  of  the  saint.  When  his 
patron  came  again,  the  saint  was  not  visible. 
"  Where  is  St.  Jerome?  "  asked  the  surprised  man. 
"  In  the  forest,  as  you  requested,"  replied  Tintoretto. 
Whereupon  the  patron,  with  more  humour  than 
one  would  have  credited  him  with,  replied,  "  Well, 
then,  I  think  you  had  better  take  him  out  again." 
Tintoretto,  laughing,  took  a  sponge  and  washed  off 
the  superincumbent  bushes,  leaving  the  picture  as 
he  had  originally  planned  it. 

Here  we  make  our  first  acquaintance  with  Titian 


52  trbe  Hrt  ot  tbe  ptttt  palace 

in  the  beautiful  canvas,  the  Marriage  of  St.  Cath- 
erine. This  is  much  the  same  treatment  of  the  sub- 
ject as  that  by  the  same  artist  in  the  National  Gal- 
lery in  London.  The  Madonna  and  Child  are  in 
the  central  position;  Mary  is  plucking  a  flower, 
while  the  infant,  with  an  apple  balanced  on  his 
upraised  hand,  throws  himself  back  in  the  embrace 
of  St.  Catherine,  who  kneels  in  the  foreground  and 
encircles  his  little  body  with  her  arms.  The  young 
St.  John  kneels  near  by,  with  an  ineffable  expression 
of  love  and  wonder  on  his  face.  Green,  blue,  and 
gold  are  the  key-notes  of  colour  in  this  picture,  re- 
lieved by  the  red  robe  of  St.  John. 

Ruskin  thinks  that  if  it  were  not  for  the  flock 
of  sheep  and  the  figures  in  this  work,  the  landscape, 
taken  as  a  painting  of  nature,  would  be  overcharged 
with  green  and  blue.  This  picture  goes  to  bear 
out  Ruskin's  statement  that  Titian  rarely  paints 
sunshine,  but  instead  a  certain  "  opalescent  twi- 
light "  which  has  "  as  much  of  human  emotion  as 
of  imitative  truth  in  it,"  and  he  bids  us  contrast 
this  picture  in  the  qualities  of  its  lights  with  the 
glowing  Rubens  near  by,  if  we  would  understand 
the  difference,  although  Ruskin  considers  Titian  a 
greater  painter  than  Rubens.  He  says  that  while 
Titian  sometimes  conceives  a  subject  imperfectly, 
yet  his  "  glory  of  hue  "  always  redeems  it. 

Titian  was  the  greatest  of  the  Venetians.    While 


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Ube  Iball  ot  Denus  53 

some  question  is  thrown  upon  the  authenticity  of 
this  picture,  it  is  sufficiently  characteristic  in  most 
respects  to  warrant  our  pausing  to  make  a  short 
study  of  the  artist  whose  works  we  shall  so  often 
meet  at  various  points  in  the  Pitti  Palace. 

Although  this  is  a  picture  which  may  be  criti- 
cized as  a  religious  subject  treated  in  too  naturalistic 
a  way,  we  may  quote  Ruskin  in  reply :  "  The  relig- 
ion of  Titian  is  like  that  of  Shakespeare,  occult 
behind  his  magnificent  equity." 

It  is  not  remarkable  that  Titian  had  all  his  life 
a  keen  appreciation  for  the  romantic  and  poetic  in 
landscape,  for  his  earliest  impressions  were  formed 
among  the  hills  of  Cadore,  where  he  was  born,  — 
a  mountain  district,  between  the  Alps  and  the  Adri- 
atic, which  is  described  by  Titian's  anonymous  biog- 
rapher thus :  "  The  famous  Titian  was  born  at  Pieve, 
the  principal  castle  of  the  country  of  Cadore,  a  castle 
reputed  impregnable,  resting  on  a  very  large  hill 
to  which  ascent  is  by  a  single  path  surrounded  by 
broken  rocks  and  inaccessible  precipices.  At  the 
foot  of  the  fortress  lies  the  town  and  the  palace 
in  which  the  Vicars  chosen  by  the  council  of  Cadore 
reside.  It  is  a  place  of  small  circuit,  but  prettily 
laid  out.  In  the  centre  of  the  piazza  is  a  fountain 
of  limpid  water.  Noble  palaces  are  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood." In  criticizing  landscape  painters,  Rus- 
kin remarks  that  Titian  and  Turner  are  the  only  two 


$6  Ube  Hrt  of  tbe  IMtti  palace 

Titian  red,  slashed  with  tiny  white  puffs.  A  long 
chain  hangs  down  from  her  throat.  The  details 
of  her  dress  are  rendered  with  as  much  love  for  the 
numerous  rich  textures  as  could  have  been  displayed 
by  that  other  great  luxury-loving  Venetian,  Paul 
Veronese.  She  is  playing  in  a  very  natural  way  with 
her  girdle,  a  richly  wrought  bauble.  Her  head-dress 
is  charming,  with  the  same  arrangement  of  Vene- 
tian beads  made  familiar  by  Titian,  Veronese,  and 
Tintoret.  She  is  blonde,  but  a  warm  blonde  —  not 
a  pale  one.  She  wears  earrings  with  long  pearl 
pendants;  and  a  bewitching  curl  is  seen  lying  on 
her  shoulder.  The  picture  is  thought  to  be  a  por- 
trait of  the  Duchess  Eleanora  of  Urbino,  for  it  is 
the  same  face  as  that  in  her  authentic  portrait  by 
Titian  in  the  Uffizi.  It  was  painted  in  1535.  It 
was  among  those  taken  to  Paris  in  the  eighteenth 
century;  on  which  occasion  some  blunderer  em- 
braced the  opportunity  of  painting  in  a  new  back- 
ground. "  Nothing  can  exceed  the  delicacy  and 
subtlety  with  which  the  flesh  and  dress  are  painted," 
says  Crowe,  "  the  tones  being  harmonized  and 
thrown  into  keeping  by  a  most  varied  use  and  appli- 
cation of  glazings  and  scumblings." 

In  a  portrait  of  this  kind  Titian  was  thoroughly  at 
home.  He  was  by  choice  a  painter  for  aristocrats, 
—  not  for  the  populace. 

Titian  died  of  the  plague  in  1576.     When  the 


Zbc  Iball  ot  It)enu0  57 

news  of  his  death  spread,  the  authorities  set  aside 
the  regular  law  that  forbade  any  person  dying  of 
the  plague  to  be  buried  within  the  city.  Since  the 
great  artist  had  desired  to  rest  in  the  Church  of 
the  Frari,  he  was  taken  there  in  solemn  procession, 
in  broad  daylight,  in  defiance  of  danger  and  law; 
such  was  the  desire  of  the  Venetians  to  pay  all 
honour  to  their  greatest  citizen. 

In  Venetian  art  Titian  stands  at  the  very  head. 
Giorgione  is  sometimes  more  luminous;  Tintoretto 
is  more  startling;  Bonifazio  is  brighter,  and  Vero- 
nese more  formal  and  stately.  If  any  one  man 
could  combine  all  these  qualities,  he  would  surpass 
Titian.    But  such  a  man  has  never  arisen. 

With  a  sudden  sensation  of  contrast  we  turn  to 
examine  the  work  of  Albert  Durer.  What  a  cold, 
colourless,  stiff  conception  of  Adam  and  Eve !  How 
different  a  treatment  of  the  nude  form  to  that  in 
Tintoretto's  picture!  But  we  must  try  to  see  what 
the  schools  of  the  North  were  doing  in  this  great 
Golden  Age;  and  Durer  can  tell  us  best.  So  we 
will  look  at  Albert  Durer's  Adam  and  Eve,  who 
seem  as  much  out  of  place  among  the  rich  clothed 
glories  of  this  room  as  actually  nude  people  would 
be.  Still,  the  painting,  though  hard,  is  finely  exe- 
cuted. Adam,  beside  whom  crouches  a  stag  in  sub- 
jection, holds  a  branch  bearing  an  apple,  which  he 
is  just  about  to  pluck.     His  figure  is  much  better 


58  XTbe  Hrt  ot  tbe  ipitti  palace 

modelled  than  that  of  Eve,  whose  shoulders  slope 
in  a  most  pyramidal  manner.  Her  figure  is  not  so 
well  painted.  She  is  looking  at  Adam  in  a  way 
which  Durer  undoubtedly  intended  to  be  alluring  — 
but  tastes  differ.  She  is  taking  an  apple  from  the 
serpent  at  the  right  of  the  picture.  At  her  feet 
are  a  lioness^  some  quail,  and  a  parrot.  The  Terres- 
trial Paradise  looks  a  little  chilly  and  unpropitious ; 
and  one  feels  that  any  garment,  even  one  composed 
of  leaves,  would  be  a  boon  to  Adam  and  Eve  as 
well  as  to  the  spectator.  These  pictures  were  painted 
in  1570.  They  were  originally  in  the  Hotel  de 
Ville  at  Nuremberg,  and  were  then  absorbed  into 
the  collection  of  the  Emperor  Rudolf.  They  may 
have  been  intended  as  side-panels  on  a  great  reredos 
which  was  never  finished. 

Ruskin  speaks  of  Durer  as  having  been  "  glo- 
riously minute,"  and  accuses  him  of  being  "  intense 
in  trifles,"  but  he  commends  the  detail  painting  of 
the  little  branch  which  Adam  holds  in  his  hand, 
saying  that  it  is  "  full  of  the  most  exquisite  vitality 
and  spring  in  every  line." 

Michelangelo  is  reported  as  having  said  that  he 
admired  Albert  Durer  so  much  that  if  he  were  not 
Michelangelo,  he  would  rather  be  Durer  than  the 
Emperor  Charles  V. 

Bellini  visited  Durer  one  day,  and,  being  much 
struck  by  the  delicacy  of  his  lines,  asked  Durer  to 


Ube  1ball  ot  IDenus  S9 

show  him  what  sort  of  a  brush  he  used.  Durer 
took  out  several  ordinary  brushes,  and  displayed 
them.  The  Venetian  said,  "  No,  I  want  to  see  the 
brush  you  use  to  paint  long  slim  lines."  Durer 
took  one  of  the  brushes,  and  drew  a  line  so  long 
and  straight  and  fine  that  Bellini  marvelled,  saying, 
"  I  could  not  have  believed  it,  had  I  not  seen  it." 

Durer  was  one  of  those  priceless  characters,  whom, 
in  the  words  of  A.  C.  0*wen,  "  no  sorrow  embitters, 
no  lovelessness  chills^  no  evil  overcomes,  in  which 
enthusiasm  never  withers  into  fanaticism."  The 
author  of  an  article  in  the  Edinburgh  Review  for 
July,  1861,  says:  "He  possessed  the  hands  of  a 
craftsman  and  the  soul  of  a  king."  Albert  Durer 
died  in  1528.  He  passed  away  during  Lent,  as  he 
had  prayed  that  he  might,  "  to  keep  his  Easter  in 
the  New  Jerusalem." 

Now,  to  turn  to  an  example  of  the  art  of  the 
extreme  South,  we  may  look  at  the  two  great  marine 
views  Number  4  and  15,  by  Salvator  Rosa.  One 
of  these,  Ruskin  says,  is  "  a  passage  of  sea  reflecting 
the  sunrise  which  is  thoroughly  good^  and  every 
way  like  Turner ;  the  rest  of  the  picture,  as  the  one 
opposite  to  it,  utterly  virtueless.  I  have  not  seen 
any  other  instance  of  Salvktor's  painting  water  with 
any  care.  It  is  usually  as  conventional  as  the  rest 
of  his  work,  yet  conventionalism  is  perhaps  more 
tolerable  in  water-painting  than  elsewhere.    And  if 


6o  Ube  art  ot  tbe  Ipittt  palace 

his  trees  and  rocks  had  been  good  the  rivers  might 
have  been  generally  accepted  v^ithout  objection." 

Salvator  Rosa's  Duplicity,  Number  2,  shows  a 
man  with  a  mask.  It  was  painted  by  the  order 
of  Cardinal  Carlo  de  Medici.  It  is  not  an  especially 
interesting  specimen  of  his  art.  Salvator  was  a 
dissipated  man,  a  satirist,  and  a  buffoon.  He  had 
a  grim  sense  of  gloomy  jesting,  which  appears  in 
this  picture.  "  In  such  laughter  the  heart  of  man 
is  sorrowful,  and  the  end  of  that  mirth  is  heaviness." 

Salvator  Rosa,  whose  more  important  picture,  the 
Vow  of  Catiline,  will  be  found  in  the  Hall  of  Jupiter, 
lived  from  161 5  to  1673.  He  was  a  Neapolitan. 
His  colouring  is  subdued  but  lurid;  he  has  a  way 
of  allowing  the  whole  canvas  to  be  in  dark  shadow, 
except  for  a  few  strong  rays  of  central  light,  —  a 
manner  which  seemed  to  him  to  suggest  mystery 
and  "  Sturm  und  Drang."  Ruskin  alludes  to  certain 
qualities  in  his  work  which  he  calls  the  "  Alsatian 
sublimities  of  Salvator." 

The  two  landscapes  by  Rubens,  one,  with  peasants, 
Number  14,  and  one  representing  Ulysses  on  the 
Island  of  the  Phaeacians,  Number  9,  are  both  wooden 
panels,  and  hardly  exhibit  the  best  qualities  of 
this  great  Flemish  master's  work.  But  as  ex- 
amples of  his  treatment  of  landscape,  they  are  both 
interesting.  Ruskin  remarks  upon  Rubens's  feeling 
for  nature.    He  speaks  thus  of  the  two  landscapes 


Ube  Iball  ot  IDenus  6i 

under  consideration :  "  Rubens  perhaps  furnishes 
us  with  the  first  instances  of  complete,  unconven- 
tional, unaffected  landscape.  His  treatment  is  manly, 
healthy,  and  rational.  .  .  .  Often  condescending  to 
minute  and  multitudinous  detail :  always,  as  far  as 
it  goes,  pure,  forcible,  and  refreshing,  consummate 
in  composition  and  marvellous  in  colour." 

Number  9  shows  Ulysses  trying  to  hide  himself 
behind  the  bushes,  while  Nausicaa^  the  daughter  of 
the  king,  having  seen  that  a  ship  has  been  wrecked, 
has  raised  her  veil,  and  is  looking  for  the  castaways, 
while  the  other  companions  flee  in  terror.  There  is 
a  little  town  on  the  seashore,  and  a  chateau  on  a 
hill,  and  a  waterfall,  —  all  introduced  into  this  paint- 
ing. The  figures  are  simply  accessories,  the  real 
purpose  of  the  artist  being  to  give  these  natural 
objects;  he  adds  the  necessary  human  touch  by 
relating  a  story  while  he  displayed  his  rural  tastes. 
In  the  picture  Number  14,  he  is  actuated  by  the  same 
motive. 

The  Apollo  and  Marsyas,  by  Guercino,  Number 
8,  is  a  thoroughly  disagreeable  subject,  but  well 
handled.  The  action  is  too  savage,  the  whole  pic- 
ture too  cruel  to  make  it  a  desirable  possession  for 
any  one.  Why  this  subject  was  ever  chosen  for 
art  purposes  is  a  mystery. 

Number  29  is  a  quaint  interpretation  of  St. 
Joseph,  also  by  Guercino;   he  holds  a  staff  which 


62  ube  Hrt  ot  tbe  ipitti  iPalace 

has  budded  in  a  perfectly  symmetrical  way  into  con- 
ventional foliage.  He  lays  one  hand  on  his  breast. 
He  is  represented  as  a  very  old  man. 

Biliverti  was  a  pupil  of  Cigoli,  born  in  Florence 
in  1576.  His  work,  like  that  of  his  master,  is  un- 
equal; his  style  was  extremely  ornamental.  He 
could  not  resist  the  disagreeable  subject  of  Apollo 
and  Marsyas,  in  his  turn.  When  one  sees  the  vin- 
dictive god  taking  his  pagan  vengeance  with  such 
spite,  on  two  canvases,  hanging  in  the  same  hall, 
one  is  fain  to  admit  that  lightning  does  sometimes 
strike  twice  in  the  same  place. 

The  Hall  of  Venus  seems  to  be  full  of  flaying 
episodes!  The  martyrdom  of  St.  Bartholomew,  by 
Ribera,  confronts  us  when  we  have  already  had 
enough  of  this  sort  of  thing  in  the  two  studies  of 
Apollo  and  Marsyas.  Ribera  has  painted  Bartholo- 
mew just  being  tied  tO'  a  tree,  while  his  executioners 
are  laughing,  one  of  them,  at  the  right,  in  the  grue- 
some act  of  holding  up  the  knife  with  which  the 
saint  is  to  be  slain.  The  knaves  are  enjoying  their 
diversion;  on  the  ground  lies  a  severed  head  —  very 
Greek  in  aspect.  It  is  evidently  a  regular  day  for 
martyrs. 

Bartolommeo  Manfredi's  Fortune  Teller  hangs 
here.  Number  6.  It  is  interesting  first  for  being  a 
natural  episode  well  painted,  and  also  because  the 
work  of  this  artist  is  exceedingly  rare,  very  few 


XTbe  Iball  of  IDenus  63 

collections  possessing  any  example  of  his  painting. 
He  died  young,  living  only  from  1580  to  16 17. 

A  rustic  has  been  waylaid  by  two  gipsies;  one 
is  a  young  handsome  woman,  with  a  studied  inno^ 
cence  of  expression,  who  has  undertaken  to  read 
his  palm  and  is  holding  his  hand  lightly,  pointing 
to  a  line  denoting  brilliant  fortune.  The  foolish 
fellow  is  laughing  with  delight  at  the  joyful  news, 
heedless  of  the  fact  that  the  old  crone,  with  an 
equally  gleeful  smile,  is  picking  his  pocket  all  the 
while.  The  treatment  of  this  picture  is  rather 
smooth,  and  lacks  atmosphere,  but  it  is  effective, 
and  passes  well  among  its  more  ambitious  rivals 
in  the  Hall  of  Venus.  The  young  gipsy  is  clothed 
in  black,  with  red  sleeves;  a  white  cloth  bound 
about  her  head  falls  to  her  shoulders,  setting  off  her 
swarthy  complexion  well.  The  maroon  vest  of  the 
victim  and  the  white  head-dress  of  the  old  woman 
light  up  and  balance  the  rest  of  the  picture,  which  is, 
upon  the  whole,  a  good  composition. 

Number  11  is  a  St.  Catherine,  by  Bassano.  The 
central  figure  is  the  saint,  bound  to  the  wheel  upon 
which  she  suffered  her  martyrdom.  Her  eyes  are 
upturned,  and  a  vision  is  vouchsafed  her  of  an  angel 
bearing  a  crown,  while  another  angel  carries  a  naked 
sword.  The  soldiers  and  populace  standing  about 
are  overcome  and  alarmed  at  the  sight.  The  picture 
has  a  foreground  crowded  with  fragments  of  wheels. 


64         Xlbe  Hrt  of  tbe  Pitt!  palace 

dying  humanity,  and  a  confused  heap  of  men.  The 
saint  rises  triumphantly  above  all  this  disorder,  giv- 
ing praise  to  Heaven  for  the  miracle. 

There  is  something  very  alluring  about  the  Spon- 
salizia  (espousals),  by  Manetti,  Number  12.  Four 
happy  couples  are  sitting  around  an  apartment, 
lighted  only  by  Hymen's  torch.  Hymen  stands,  with 
raised  torch,  at  the  left,  looking  about  among  his 
victims :  he  is  a  thoroughly  sympathetic  guardian. 
The  chief  couple,  whose  nuptials  are  evidently  being 
celebrated,  sit  at  the  right,  looking  extremely  con- 
tented with  one  another.  They  are  dressed  superbly 
in  all  the  trickery  of  the  bridal^  the  youth  wearing 
a  hat  with  feathers,  and  the  bride  a  turban  covered 
with  jewels.  They  are  dad  in  brocades  and  satins. 
Other  couples  are  seated  about,  in  gala  dress,  but 
none  so  festive  as  these  two.  In  the  lower  left 
corner  are  two  people  whose  backs  only  are  visible. 
The  turn  of  the  girl's  head  and  the  upturned  face 
of  the  youth  are  very  charming.  The  light,  being 
thrown  on  all  from  a  central  point,  makes  a  delight- 
ful effect,  as  if  the  group  were  sitting  around  a 
fire. 

In  the  Triumph  of  David,  Matteo  Roselli  has 
painted  a  spirited  picture.  It  is  full  of  action,  but 
the  heads  lack  virility.  The  figures  of  the  women 
are  graceful,  and  it  is  fresh  and  beautiful  in  colour. 
In  the  centre,  David,  in  a  yellow  tunic,  advances, 


XTbe  Dall  ot  IDenus  65 

carrying  the  head  of  GoHath;  the  sword  of  the 
giant  is  in  his  other  hand.  He  is  conducted  by 
maidens  dancing  before  him,  bearing  musical  in- 
struments. Matteo  RoselH  was  born  in  Florence  in 
1578.  He  had  not  the  originality  nor  the  ability 
to  imagine  or  to  carry  out  any  great  conception. 

Next  we  come  upon  a  fine  rich  Rembrandt,  Num- 
ber 16.  Rembrandt  is  always  original  in  his  por- 
traits; this  one,  of  an  old  man,  being  no  exception 
to  the  rule.  The  eyes  are  cast  down,  and  he  seems 
lost  in  thought;  he  looks  just  as  his  family  must 
have  seen  him,  sitting,  unconscious  that  any  one 
is  observing  him.  His  hands  are  in  front  of  him, 
and  the  fingers  locked  alternately,  in  a  very  natural 
way.  It  is  one  of  the  most  easy  and  masterly  com- 
positions of  its  class. 

St.  Martina,  by  Pietro  da  Cortona,  is  a  thrill- 
ing composition  full  of  events  in  all  directions.  St. 
Martina  was  a  Roman  virgin,  martyred  under  Alex- 
ander Severus.  There  is  a  legend  that  she  triumphed 
over  the  idols  in  the  Temple  of  Apollo,  where  they 
had  taken  her  with  the  intention  of  forcing  her  to 
sacrifice.  The  lightning  came  from  heaven  and 
shattered  the  temple.  The  saint  is  seen  in  the  centre 
of  the  picture,  her  eyes  rolled  up,  with  a  real  ex- 
pression of  surprise  and  awe  upon  her  face.  The 
lightning  is  descending  upon  the  idols,  who  are 
falling  to  the  ground  from  their  pedestals,  and  upon 


66         xcbe  Hrt  ot  tbe  ipttti  ipalace 

the  evil  men  who  would  injure  the  beautiful  girl. 
The  falling  temple  is  seen  in  the  near  background. 
There  is  a  confusion  of  fallen  figures;  and  there 
is  great  animation  in  the  general  composition.  In 
the  distance,  on  the  right,  are  seen  an  obelisk  and 
a  circular  temple  supported  by  columns. 

Rustici,  a  young  Sienese  artist,  who  died  in  1625, 
has  painted,  in  very  late  decadent  Renaissance  style, 
the  death  of  the  Magdalen.  Mary  is  seen  repenting 
heavily,  supported  by  two  angels,  one  of  whom 
airily  presents  her  with  a  cross. 

The  picture,  Number  26,  representing  the  Parable 
of  the  Vineyard,  is  by  Domenico  Feti.  In  the 
painting  before  us,  the  lord  of  the  vineyard  is  sitting 
in  a  comfortable  armchair  out  in  the  street  —  at 
least  it  appears  to  be  the  street^  as  there  are  houses 
about;  he  waves  his  hand  in  argument  as  he  ex- 
plains his  theory  to  the  labourer  who  stands  before 
him,  leaning  on  his  spade.  At  the  right  is  another 
man  who  might  be  called  an  idler  in  the  market-place. 

Number  30,  an  illustration  of  the  Parable  of  the 
Lost  Piece  of  Money,  is  also  by  the  hand  of  Domen- 
ico Feti.  The  woman  is  looking  for  the  lost  coin. 
She  is  in  a  vast  cellar  with  little  furniture,  and  what 
few  bits  there  are  are  grouped  at  one  end,  or  else 
overturned,  just  as  they  would  be  if  one  were  search- 
ing for  anything  in  an  apartment.  The  woman  is 
alone  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  stooping  low  to 


XTbe  Iball  ot  IDenus  67 

examine  the  ground,  carrying  in  her  hand  a  little 
lamp  of  the  same  pattern  as  those  used  still  in  small 
towns  in  Italy.  Her  shadow  is  cast  up  darkly 
against  the  wall  behind  her.  The  strong  contrasts 
of  light  and  shade  in  the  picture  are  very  well 
managed. 

Cigoli,  in  Number  2j,  has  painted  a  representation 
of  the  incident  related  in  St.  John's  Gospel,  when 
Peter  sees  the  risen  Lord  upon  the  shore,  and,  as  the 
apostle  relates,  "  When  Simon  Peter  heard  that  it 
was  the  Lord,  he  girt  his  fisher's  coat  unto  him,  for 
he  was  naked,  and  did  cast  himself  into  the  sea.  And 
the  other  disciples  came  in  a  little  ship,  for  they  were 
not  far  from  land,  dragging  the  net  with  fishes.'* 
Christ  is  on  the  shore  and  Peter  is  just  stepping 
from  the  water. 


CHAPTER    IV. 


THE    HALL    OF    APOLLO 


In  the  Hall  of  Apollo  we  first  make  the  acquaint- 
ance of  Raphael,  although  only  as  a  portrait-painter. 
Raphael  Sanzio  is  probably  the  most  generally  be- 
loved artist  who  ever  lived.  The  key-note  of  his  pic- 
tures is  a  cheerful  serenity.  He  avoids  extremes  of 
all  kinds.  Leonardo  leaned  to  the  intellectual  and  the 
psychical;  Titian  glorified  the  physical;  Raphael 
maintained  the  golden  mean^  and  painted  in  his 
creative  work  the  real  with  an  ideal  touch. 

But  in  his  portraits  the  ideal  is  thrown  aside.  He 
is  absolutely  exact,  —  pitilessly  realistic.  Raphael 
always  painted  what  he  saw.  If  his  model  was  an 
ugly  woman,  he  painted  her  as  she  was ;  if  he  was 
representing  a  handsome  man,  he  was  equally  true 
to  nature;  when  he  turned  his  glance  inward  and 
painted  what  he  saw  in  his  own  imagination,  he  was 
a  great  idealist.  He  was  an  idealist  because  he  was 
so  much  of  a  realist ;  he  transcribed  exactly  what  he 
saw,  —  either  the  actual  flaw  of  nature,  or  the  actual 
spiritual  vision. 

68 


ANGELO    DONI 
By  Raphael;  in  the  Hall  of  Apollo 


m^"^^"^^ 


% 


XTbe  Iball  of  HpoUo  69 

The  portraits  of  Angelo  and  Madelena  Doni  are 
the  earliest  painted  by  Raphael.  They  hang  in  the 
Hall  of  Apollo,  numbered  59  and  61.  They  were 
executed  about  1505  in  Florence,  and  are  on  wood. 
Angelo  Doni  was  a  great  friend  of  Raphael.  These 
portraits  are  among  the  best  that  Raphael  has 
painted,  especially  that  of  Angelo.  They  are  rather 
stiff,  and  have  a  slightly  wooden  and  varnished 
expression,  like  most  works  of  the  Umbrian  school. 

Angelo,  being  perhaps  more  interesting-looking 
as  a  man  than  Madelena  was  as  a  woman,  is  the 
more  pleasing  subject.  He  is  represented  in  three- 
quarter  view,  clothed  in  black  and  red,  with  a  double 
golden  clasp  at  his  throat,  and  a  black  beretta  on 
his  head,  from  which  the  chestnut  hair  falls  thick  and 
short  about  his  neck.  The  short  fat  hands  are  well 
painted,  and  the  rings  which  adorn  one  of  them  are 
beautifully  rendered.  The  expression  of  the  fine 
eyes  and  the  delicate  shape  of  the  face  are  strong 
and  refined.  The  picture  is  not  idealized ;  and  if  the 
left  eye  is  a  trifle  out  of  drawing,  one  pardons  it,  as 
one  does  when  Botticelli  paints  the  most  lovely 
Madonna  with  eyes  which  do  not  match  at  all. 
There  are  a  few  great  pictures  in  which  a  slight  error 
of  the  pencil  is  not  really  felt  to  be  a  blemish.  It 
is  a  test  of  greatness  when  this  is  the  case,  for  as  a 
rule  the  drawing  is  of  the  first  importance,  and  dis- 
counts all  other  beauties  of  technique.    The  portrait 


70  Ube  Hrt  of  tbe  ipittt  palace 

is  most  minutely  painted ;  one  can  almost  detect  the 
separate  hairs^  and  yet  the  effect  is  not  petty.  The 
timidity  of  inexperience  is  in  both  portraits ;  but  the 
promise  of  the  master  touch  predominates.  They 
show  some  influence  of  Leonardo  da  Vinci  (compare 
them  with  the  Monaca  and  the  Goldsmith,  both  in 
the  Pitti),  and  also  recall  the  work  of  Ghirlandajo. 

Madelena  sits  turned  towards  the  left,  as  Angelo 
has  turned  towards  the  right,  so  that  the  two 
portraits  might  be  hung  as  companion  pieces,  fac- 
ing one  another.  Her  uninteresting  blond  hair  is 
closely  confined  by  a  net,  which  is  held  in  place 
on  the  brow  by  a  black  ferronniere.  A  pinkish  dress, 
relieved  by  blue  velvet  trimmings,  has  enough  white 
about  it  to  redeem  it  from  actual  stiffness.  The 
position  is  not  unlike  that  of  Leonardo's  Monna 
Lisa  in  the  Louvre:  the  hands  are  in  much  the 
same  position;  but  the  heavy,  stolid  face  has  little 
in  common  with  Leonardo's  sprightly  model.  The 
flesh-tones  in  this  face,  however,  are  most  exqui- 
sitely handled,  the  clear  tones  merging  into  the 
delicate  gradations  of  greenish  shadow.  The  shad- 
dows  are  luminous.  The  finish  is  almost  like  an 
enamel.  Madelena  Doni  was  one  of  the  famous 
family  of  Strozzi,  but,  as  Muntz  observes,  "  it  is 
difficult  to  believe  that  the  noble  blood  of  the  Strozzi 
circulated  in  the  veins  of  this  bourgeoise." 

Of  the  truth  of  the  likeness  in  the  portrait  of 


Ube  lbaU  ot  HpoUo  n 

Pope  Leo  X.  there  can  be  small  doubt.  A  most 
hideous,  squint-eyed,  fat,  thick  person  this;  and 
Raphael  has  not  flattered  him.  The  character  of 
the  man  is  laid  bare.  The  Pontiff  is  sitting  in  a 
richly  carved  armchair,  turning  slightly  towards  the 
left  (his  right )^  and  behind  him  stand  two  cardinals. 
These  are  also'  portraits,  the  one  on  the  right  being 
Julius  de  Medici,  the  cousin  of  Leo  X.,  who  after- 
wards became  Pope  Clement  VIL,  and  on  the  left, 
Cardinal  Luigi  de  Rossi,  who  was  secretary  to  the 
Pope.  This  latter  portrait  is  thought  to  be  by 
Giulio  RomanO',  who  assisted  in  the  work  upon  this 
picture.  Apparently  the  Pope  is  supposed  to  be 
presiding  at  some  debate,  or  listening  to  some  cause. 
The  pose  is  wonderfully  lifelike.  The  Pope  was 
known  to  be  near-sighted,  and  he  may  be  observed 
to  hold  in  one  hand  the  reading-glass  of  the  period. 
There  was  a  saying,  current  among  the  Roman  wits, 
"  Many  blind  cardinals  created  the  blind  Pope, 
Leo  X." 

There  is  an  interesting  anecdote  about  the  authen- 
ticity of  this  picture.  In  1523  Ferdinand,  Duke  of 
Mantua,  passed  through  Florence  on  his  way  to 
visit  the  Pope  in  Rome,  and  was  much  struck  by 
the  nobility  of  Raphael's  portrait  of  Leo  X.,  one 
of  the  cardinals  in  the  picture  being  that  same  Pope, 
Clement  VIL,  whom  he  was  on  his  way  to  see. 
When  the  duke  arrived  in  Rome,  he  told  the  Pontiff 


12         Ube  Hrt  of  tbe  pitti  palace 

how  much  he  had  admired  the  picture,  and  the 
Pope  sent  orders  to  Ottaviano  de  Medici  to  prepare 
a  pleasant  surprise  for  the  duke  by  having  the 
portrait  sent  to  him  as  a  gift,  to  greet  him  on 
his  return  to  Mantua.  Ottaviano,  however,  with  true 
Medicean  foresight,  had  no  intention  of  robbing 
Florence  in  order  to  obey  papal  orders,  so  he  quietly 
hired  Andrea  del  Sarto  to  make  a  copy,  which  he 
forwarded  with  much  flourish  to  Mantua.  No  one 
suspected  the  fraud,  for  the  copy  was  apparently 
perfect.  One  day,  however,  the  discerning  Giorgio 
Vasari  happened  to  be  in  Mantua  with  his  friend, 
Giulio  Romano.  Upon  Giulio's  expressing  a  lively 
admiration  of  Raphael's  portrait,  Vasari  replied  that 
he;  too,  admired  it,  but  that  it  was  not  by  Raphael. 

"  Not  by  Raphael ! "  exclaimed  the  astonished 
Romano ;  "  why,  I  ought  to  know,  for  I  can  detect 
my  own  brush-marks !  " 

"  It  is  by  Andrea  del  Sarto,"  replied  Vasari,  "  I 
can  prove  it  to  you."  And  he  turned  the  picture 
around,  and  there,  behold,  was  the  sign  with  which 
Del  Sarto  marked  all  his  pictures,  —  an  A  with  a  V 
interlaced  in  a  monogram.  At  this,  Giulio  was  so 
overcome  by  amazement  that  he  expressed  himself 
more  than  ever  delighted  by  the  painting.  "  For," 
said  he,  "  it  is  a  marvel  that  a  man  can  so  flawlessly 
imitate  the  manner  of  another !  " 

Raphael's  original  hangs  in  the  Pitti,  and  Andrea's 


Ube  Iball  of  Hpollo  73 

copy  is  in  Naples.  About  1841  the  question  arose 
as  to  the  authenticity  of  the  Pitti  original ;  but,  after 
due  pamphlet  controversy,  which  was  dull  and 
lengthy,  the  decision  was  reached  that  the  one  in 
Florence  was  the  true  portrait  by  Raphael,  —  an- 
other instance  of  good  coming  out  of  evil,  as  is 
so  constantly  demonstrated  during  the  reign  of  the 
Medici!  Had  it  not  been  for  Ottaviano's  deceit, 
Florence  would  not  have  possessed  this  treasure 
to-day. 

The  portrait  was  painted  after  the  execution  of 
Cardinal  Petrucci,  who  had  conspired  against  Leo, 
and  attempted  his  life.  The  features  are  certainly 
those  of  a  vital  man,  with  whom  it  would  be  dan- 
gerous to  tamper.  It  was  painted  in  15 18,  and  is  a 
good  example  of  the  third  or  Roman  manner  of  the 
master.  Crowe  considers  it  worthy  to  be  ranked  with 
the  Sistine  Madonna ;  and  as  a  technical  work  of  art 
this  portrait  is  certainly  the  equal  of  the  great  Dres- 
den picture.  A  tribute  to  the  lifelikeness  of  the 
portrait  is  a  tradition  that  Cardinal  Pescia  (who 
must  have  been  quite  as  near-sighted  as  his  illus- 
trious chief)  once  knelt  before  it,  presenting  bulls 
to  be  signed,  supposing  it  to  be  the  Pontiff  in  the 
flesh! 

The  accessories  of  the  picture  are  most  beauti- 
fully treated;  the  missal  which  lies  open  on  the 
table,  and  the  delicately  chased  bell  which  stands 


74         XTbe  Hrt  of  tbe  pttti  palace 

near  by,  are  delightful  details,  and  yet  are  painted 
without  the  varnished  nicety  of  the  master's  earlier 
style  of  finish.  The  colour  scheme  carried  out,  per- 
haps intentionally,  the  spirit  of  the  times  and  of  the 
man.  All  shades  of  red,  merging  into  brown,  are 
fused  into  an  inexpressible  harmony,  relieved  only 
by  dark  white  and  the  tiny  scraps  of  colour  in  the 
missal.  If  it  be  true  that  there  is  a  language  of 
colour,  and  an  alliance  between  colour  and  sound, 
then  Raphael  has  indeed  made  a  judicious  use  of  his 
opportunities  in  depicting  Leo  X.  all  in  red  sur- 
roundings. A  blind  man,  when  asked  by  Viollet  le 
Due  to  tell  what  was  his  impression  of  the  colour  red, 
replied,  "  Red  is  the  sound  of  the  trumpet."  The 
textures  of  the  varied  fabrics  and  materials  in  this 
picture  are  faultlessly  portrayed. 

A  copy  by  Giulio  Romano  of  Raphael's  Madonna 
della  Lucertola,  which  is  in  Madrid^  may  also  be 
seen  in  this  room.  Giulio  Romano  was  the  pupil 
whom  Raphael  always  chose  to  carry  out  certain 
parts  of  his  pictures,  because  his  touch  was  more  in 
sympathy  with  Raphael's  own  than  that  of  any 
other  follower  of  his  school.  So  it  is  an  especially 
good  copy  of  this  picture  which  we  have  to  examine. 
The  painting  is  on  wood.  Lucertola  means  lizard, 
and  this  little  emblem  is  seen  basking  on  a  broken 
base  of  a  column  in  the  extreme  right  of  the  pic- 
ture.   Raphael's  Madonnas,  being  so  numerous,  are 


Zbc  Iball  ot  Hpollo  75 

usually  dominated  by  some  such  trifling  detail,  — 
such  as  the  Madonna  of  the  Goldfinch,  the  Madonna 
of  the  Diadem,  Madonna  of  the  Chair,  and  of  the 
Linen  Window;  both  of  these  last  being  in  the 
Pitti  Gallery. 

The  virgin  in  this  picture  which  we  are  now 
considering  is  a  characteristic  type  of  Raphael,  with 
full,  round  curves  and  a  placid,  oval  face,  —  in 
those  days  the  fashion  in  beauty.  The  scene  appears 
to  be  laid  amidst  the  ruins  of  a  Roman  structure, 
fragments  of  carved  stone  occupying  the  right  of 
the  picture;  St.  Joseph,  leaning  upon  them,  con- 
templates the  other  members  of  the  family  (as  seems 
to  have  been  his  custom,  judging  from  the  number 
of  times  one  sees  him  so  represented).  The  child 
on  Mary's  knee  leans  to  St.  John,  who  stands  by 
presenting  a  scroll,  upon  which  are  the  words,  "  Ecce 
Agnus  Dei."  The  infant  Christ  is  turning  to  look 
back  at  his  mother,  upon  whose  face  there  is  abso- 
lutely no  expression  to  denote  any  special  frame  of 
mind.  The  child's  face  is  expressive  of  glee,  and 
the  eyes  are  full  of  life.  At  the  Virgin's  feet  is 
a  charming  little  cradle,  with  a  roll  of  swathing 
bandage  lying  half-undone  upon  the  grass  beside  it. 
Near  by,  in  the  central  foreground,  a  snail  is  mean- 
dering. The  background  is  a  charming  rural  one, 
with  buildings  on  a  hill  at  the  left,  and  a  graceful 


76  Ube  Hrt  ot  tbe  pittt  palace 

rivulet  in  the  distance.  The  family  is  grouped  at 
the  foot  of  a  tree. 

We  now  come  to  a  consideration  of  the  great 
Spanish  master  Murillo,  two  of  whose  Madonnas 
hang  in  the  Hall  of  Apollo.  These  two  are  the 
only  examples  of  Murillo's  work  in  the  Pitti  Palace. 
The  first,  the  Madonna  of  the  Rosary,  Number  56, 
is  probably  an  earlier  work  than  the  other.  It  was 
bought  from  the  artist  Acciaj,  by  Ferdinand  III., 
for  about  $1,020  in  our  money.  The  artist  had  in 
his  turn  bought  it  from  a  Roman  picture  dealer. 
The  Virgin  is  seated,  with  the  infant  on  her  knee, 
and  he  is  playing  with  a  rosary.  It  is  very  lovely, 
as  all  Murillo's  Madonnas  are;  but  it  has  rather  a 
crisper  touch  than  the  other  picture.  Number  63, 
which  is  quite  "  vaporous  "  and  full  of  that  delicious 
yellow  light  which  Murillo  knew  so  well  how  to 
produce,  often  considered  artificial  by  carping  critics. 
The  child  is  turning  to  look  directly  out  at  the 
spectator,  with  a  most  glorious  pair  of  large,  liquid 
eyes.  It  may  not  be  an  intellectual  picture,  but  it 
is  strikingly  beautiful  and  peaceful.  The  colouring 
is  mellow  and  restful. 

Bartolome  Esteban  Murillo  was  born  in  Seville  in 
1 618,  and  became,  from  the  most  unpropitious  be- 
ginnings, one  of  the  foremost  artists  in  the  world. 
As  a  youth  he  worked,  in  a  small,  inconspicuous 
way,  in  a  studio  in  Seville,  with  few  appliances  and 


MADONNA    AND    CHILD 
By  Murillo ;  in  the  Hall  of  Apollo 


m 


lUa'.XKTMENT  UF 


tTbe  t)aU  ot  Hpollo  77 

no  models,  except  when  one  of  the  class  was  willing 
to  strip  and  pose  for  a  leg-  or  an  arm.  He  had  no 
money :  being  a  poor  boy,  he  had  to  turn  his  talent$ 
to  practical  account  without  regard  to  any  sense 
of  pride  that  he  might  feel,  so  he  began  his  artistic 
career  by  painting  religious  pictures  for  the  public 
fairs.  "  Pittura  de  la  Feria "  was  a  proverbial 
expression  in  Spain  for  a  "  daub,"  but  the  slight 
remuneration  which  these  early  efforts  brought  him 
was  necessarily  his  chief  consideration,  so  he 
**  daubed "  away  bravely,  shipping  off  Madonnas 
and  popular  saints  by  the  dozen,  and  doubtless  bene- 
fiting all  the  time  by  the  practice  which  his  prolific 
pencil  gained.  At  the  same  time  he  was  supporting 
an  invalid  sister,  and  yet  he  made  enough  at  this 
trade  to  enable  him  to  go  to  Madrid  to  study.  As 
soon  as  he  arrived  he  made  himself  known  to  Velas- 
quez, his  own  fellow  townsman,  then  court  painter. 
Velasquez  was  so  struck  with  the  youth's  ability  that 
he  lodged  him  in  his  own  house^  and  got  permission 
for  him  to  copy  pictures  in  the  royal  galleries. 

Murillo,  like  most  artists,  progressed  from  one 
style  of  painting  to  another,  and  is  known  as  having 
three  manners :  his  first,  "  Frio,"  or  cold  manner ; 
his  second,  "  Calido,"  or  warm  style ;  and,  in  about 
1656,  his  "  Vaporoso,"  or  vaporous  manner,  began, 
by  which  we  chiefly  know  him,  and  is  to  be  seen 


78  Ube  Hrt  ot  tbe  pittt  iPalace 

in  the  Madonna  and  Child,  Number  63,  but  less  so 
in  Number  56.    Murillo  died  in  1682. 

In  this  hall  hang  two  famous  Titians  —  the  well- 
known  Magdalen,  and  the  portrait  of  Pietro  Aretino, 
which  is  numbered  54. 

Pietro  Aretino  was  a  poet  and  a  wit,  a  pamphleteer, 
sensualist,  and  courtier,  with  whom  Titian  was  inti- 
mate for  more  than  thirty  years.  He  is  a  striking 
person  with  his  full  beard,  his  accentuated  features, 
and  his  handsome  clothes,  —  a  russet  tunic  and  red 
mantle,  with  a  gold  chain.  The  portrait  was  painted 
for  Aretino  in  1546,  and  given  by  him  as  a  present 
to  his  kind  patron,  Cosimo  I.  de  Medici.  The  fact 
that  the  payment  for  the  portrait  finally  devolved 
upon  Cosimo  is  quite  in  keeping  with  Aretino's 
peculiarities.  He  himself  described  the  picture  as 
a  "  hideous  marvel ;  "  probably  he  really  considered 
it  as  representing  him  truly  as  an  engaging  and 
dashing  man.  Aretino  was  born  in  1492  in  a  hos- 
pital of  Arezzo,  of  parents  whose  names  are  not 
known,  except  that  his  father  was  a  gentleman  of 
Arezzo  —  who,  however,  laid  no  claim  to  Pietro. 
Brought  up  in  such  baleful  environment,  Pietro  Are- 
tino turned  out  to  be  just  the  sort  of  person  that 
might  have  been  expected.  He  has  been  described 
as  "  a  grand,  handsome  bully."  His  services  were 
bought  by  all  the  princes  and  dukes  who  wished  for 
them :  he  wrote  scurrilous  articles  about  the  enemies 


XTbe  1ball  of  Bpollo  79 

of  his  patrons,  and  was  never  above  smirching  a 
reputation  by  obscene  doggerel  or  by  "  false  wit- 
ness "  to  order.  He  was  a  high  liver  and  a  low  liver 
by  turns ;  he  toadied  to  the  aristocracy  while  satiriz- 
ing all  who  did  not  respond  to  his  advances.  He 
was  a  "  self-made  man  "  in  the  wrong  sense;  and  the 
result  was  a  glutton,  a  slanderer,  and  a  spendthrift, 
apparently  generous  when  it  was  for  his  interest 
to  be  lavish. 

Aretino  was  so  popular  and  so  famous  that  his 
face  was  represented  on  "  pipe-heads  and  china- 
ware  "  in  the  shops  of  Venice,  but  when  he  ventured 
to  satirize  Tintoretto,  the  "  Thunderbolt "  got  hold 
of  him,  and  gave  him  such  practical  advice  and 
such  convincing  proof  of  his  error,  that  Aretino  was 
seen  leaving  the  studio  in  tears;  and  no  more  was 
heard  from  him  in  that  quarter. 

It  is  strange  that  Titian  ever  became  intimate  with 
Aretino,  and  still  stranger  that  the  friendship  should 
have  been  of  such  long  duration;  but  it  is  quite 
possible  that  Titian's  main  intention  was  simply 
not  to  make  an  enemy  where  the  only  alternative 
was  to  make  a  friend.  Undoubtedly  a  clever  rogue 
like  Aretino  was  good  enough  company  when  he  was 
well  disposed,  and  probably  was,  at  least,  never  a 
bore. 

Aretino  had  made  himself  indispensable  to  certain 
persons  high  in  authority  by  learning  some  of  the 


82  ube  Hrt  ot  tbe  pitti  palace 

and  is  on  a  wooden  panel.  The  eyes  of  the  saint  are 
turned  upwards;  she  is  weeping,  and  holding  her 
thick,  long  tresses  about  her  nude  form  in  a  rather 
inadequate  attempt  at  modesty  (if  it  is  an  attempt 
at  all).  Titian  boasted  that  this  subject  was  always 
a  remunerative  one,  and  that  he  has  received  two 
thousand  scudi  for  it.  Crowe  and  Cavalcaselle 
allude  to  this  picture  in  the  most  flattering  terms. 
Perhaps  there  are  no  two  pictures  about  which  the 
recognized  authorities  so  disagree  as  this  and  the 
Madonna  of  the  Chair,  by  Raphael.  Crowe  assumes 
that  the  picture  is  absolutely  beautiful,  and  that  too 
much  could  not  be  said  in  its  praise.  His  only 
criticism  is  that  it  bears  the  marks  of  haste  in  its 
execution,  and  that  Titian's  motive  was  not  quite 
a  pure  one  —  that  his  intention  was  simply  to  paint 
a  handsome  woman,  and  that  his  best  art  is  displayed 
in  calling  attention  to  her  faultless  anatomy.  The 
lustre  of  the  skin  and  the  metallic  golden  quality 
of  the  hair  are  relieved  against  one  of  Titian's  dark 
landscape  backgrounds.  Crowe  and  Cavalcaselle 
consider  the  model  too  beautiful  to  be  real. 

How  different  an  impression  did  the  same  picture 
make  upon  John  Ruskin!  As  to  this  Magdalen, 
Ruskin,  always  frank,  speaks  out  with  special  direct- 
ness, calling  her  "  disgusting,"  with  no  apology  and 
little  qualification.  He  sees  in  her  "a  stout,  red- 
faced  woman,  dull  and  coarse  of  feature,  with  much 


Ube  Iball  ot  Hpollo  83 

of  the  animal  even  in  her  expression  of  repentance, 
—  her  eyes  strained  and  inflamed  with  weeping." 
But  he  goes  on  to  tell  why  Titian  painted  her  thus, 
and  as  his  interpretation  differs  from  that  of  many 
critics,  I  think  it  best  to  quote  it  directly.  Titian, 
being  the  first  to  disregard  the  accepted  theory  that 
the  Magdalen  must  have  been  young  and  lovely, 
"  saw  that  it  was  possible  for  plain  women  to  love 
no  less  than  beautiful  ones;  and  for  stout  persons 
to  repent  as  well  as  those  more  delicately  made."  It 
seemed  to  him  that  the  Magdalen  "  would  have  re- 
ceived her  pardon  none  the  less  quickly  because  her 
wit  was  none  of  the  readiest,  and  would  not  have 
been  regarded  with  less  compassion  by  her  Master 
because  her  eyes  were  swollen  or  her  dress  disor- 
dered. It  is  just  because  he  has  set  himself  sternly 
to  enforce  this  lesson  that  the  picture  is  so  painful; 
the  only  instance,  so  far  as  I  remember,  of  Titian\s 
painting  a  woman  markedly  and  entirely  belonging 
to  the  lowest  class."  Ruskin  believes  that  no  Vene- 
tian picture  ever  stirred  a  base  emotion^  and  that  in 
the  treatment  of  the  female  form  majesty  predom- 
inates, as  in  Greek  art. 

Very  coy  in  his  remarks  about  this  disputed  pic- 
ture is  La  Fontaine,  who  saw  it  in  1663.  He  ob- 
serves that  she  is  "  grosse  et  grasse  "  and  very  agree- 
able ;    adding,   "  These  newly-made  penitents  are 


84  XTbe  Hrt  ot  tbe  iptttt  palace 

dangerous;  and  all  men  of  sound  judgment  will 
fly  from  them." 

But  setting  aside  the  subject  and  considering  the 
painting  technically,  its  execution  is  most  satisfac- 
tory. It  is  signed  upon  a  vase  of  ointment  which 
appears  in  the  right  corner,  "  Titianus." 

Over  the  door  in  the  Hall  of  Apollo  hangs  the 
grand  Pieta  of  Fra  Bartolommeo.  It  is  one  of  the 
most  perfectly  dignified  Depositions  in  the  world 
of  art.  In  the  words  of  an  accepted  critic :  "  It  is 
not  possible  to  cite  an  instance  in  which  a  lifeless 
form  is  rendered  with  more  flexibility  or  with  more 
anatomical  accuracy.  As  regards  the  foreshorten- 
ing, the  Magdalen  is  unsurpassed."  The  body  of 
Christ,  extended  on  a  linen  cloth,  is  sustained  by 
St.  John;  on  the  right  the  Magdalen  em.braces 
the  feet  of  the  Saviour,  while  the  Virgin  in  the  cen- 
tre holds  tenderly  the  head  of  her  dead  Son,  while 
she  kisses  him  on  the  forehead,  and  supports  his  arm 
in  her  other  hand.  There  were  two  figures  of  St. 
Peter  and  St.  Paul  which  were  formerly  supplemen- 
tary to  this  group,  but  they  were  afterwards  sepa- 
rated from  the  rest.  Woltmann  alludes  to  the  fact 
that  "  the  emotional  sentiment  of  the  scene  is  ren- 
dered with  classic  reserve  and  perfect  beauty  of  line 
and  expression."  The  background  is  a  sombre  and 
gloomy  landscape,  in  keeping  with  the  subject  and 
the  hour  when  the  scene  is  depicted. 


XTbe  1baU  of  Hpollo  ^s 

Bartolommeo  was  born  in  1469.  Living  near 
the  gate  of  San  Pietro  Gattolini,  he  acquired  the 
nickname,  Baccio  della  Porta  (Bat  of  the  Gate). 
He  was  one  of  the  Piagnoni,  that  is  to  say,  a  follower 
of  Savonarola,  of  whom  he  painted  a  masterly  por- 
trait. After  the  death  of  his  leader  he  became  a 
Dominican  in  order,  as  he  believed,  to  save  his  soul. 
He  did  not  care  for  the  ancient  Greek  ideals,  pre- 
ferring the  models  of  Lippi,  Orcagna,  and  Massac- 
cio;  going  back  even  as  far  as  Giotto  for  inspira- 
tion. He  forms  an  interesting  link  between  the 
mediaeval  painters  and  Michelangelo. 

His  large  compositions  were  as  clever  as  his  por- 
traits, and  his  simplicity  and  beauty  of  arrangement 
and  clearness  of  outline  are  among  his  chief  char- 
acteristics. His  figures  are  strong,  with  calmness 
and  reserve  of  expression;  his  perspective  is  good, 
and  his  comprehension  of  the  proportions  of  the 
human  form  unerring.  He  draws  most  correctly, 
and  his  colouring  is  sober  and  transparent. 

The  reason  why  he  accentuated  the  body  under 
the  robes  so  cleverly  was  that  he  always  first  drew 
the  figure  nude.  He  combined  some  of  the  Christian 
purity  of  the  old  masters  with  the  pagan  beauty 
of  the  later  ones;  he  balanced  the  values  of  both, 
without  becoming  either  florid  or  narrow.  Although 
he  did  not  rise  to  the  height  of  the  great  masters 
of  the  Renaissance,  he  exhibits  more  of  their  merits 


86  xibe  Hrt  ot  tbe  ptttt  palace 

than  any  other  second-rate  man.  From  Savonarola 
he  had  acquired  the  taste  for  simple  habits  and 
purity  of  thought.  From  Leonardo  he  learned  the 
art  of  making  the  real  into  a  foil  for  the  ideal; 
from  Michelangelo  he  drew  inspiration  for  the 
imposing  attitudes  in  which  he  placed  his  figures. 
He  derived  grace  and  charm  from  the  study  of 
Fra  Angelico  and'  Raphael.  While  he  borrowed 
in  every  direction,  he  yet  avoided  copying  servilely 
from  any  one  master,  and  he  made  what  he  had 
borrowed  his  own  by  adding  an  individual  touch. 
He  was  an  impersonation  of  the  acquired  science  and 
the  refined  taste  of  Florentine  art. 

Fra  Bartolommeo  finally  caught  the  severe  chill 
which  resulted  in  his  death,  as  described  by  Vasari : 
"  Having  laboured  perpetually  beneath  a  window, 
the  rays  from  which  poured  constantly  upon  his 
back,  one  side  of  his  body  became  paralyzed."  He 
was  sent  to  the  baths  at  San  Filippo,  but  "  having 
eaten  very  plentifully  of  figs,  he  was  attacked,  in 
addition  to  his  previous  malady,  with  a  violent  ac- 
cess of  fever,  which  finished  the  course  of  his  life 
in  four  days,"  so  that  he  died,  when  he  was  forty- 
nine  years  of  age,  in  the  year  15 17. 

The  Pieta  was  executed  on  wood  for  the  Augus- 
tine friars  outside  the  Porta  San  Gallo.  This  mon- 
astery being  destroyed  at  the  time  of  the  siege  of 
Florence,  the  picture  was  taken  to  San  Jacopo  Tra 


Ube  1ball  of  HpoUo  87 

Fossi,  whence  the  grand  duchess  had  it  taken  to  the 
Pitti  Palace.  This  was  one  of  the  latest  pictures 
by  Fra  Bartolommeo.  Had  he  lived  longer,  he 
might  have  developed  a  style  characterized  by  a 
greater  dramatic  power  than  that  of  any  of  his 
works  which  remain  to  us. 

In  connection  with  this  picture,  it  is  interesting 
to  study  another  famous  treatment  of  the  same  sub- 
ject, —  the  Deposition,  by  Andrea  del  Sarto,  which 
hangs  here,  numbered  58.  It  is  a  spiritual  picture, 
rendered  exquisitely.  It  was  painted  for  the  sis- 
ters of  a  convent  where  Andrea  had  gone  to  escape 
the  plague  when  it  was  raging  in  Florence.  Later, 
it  was  bought  by  Ferdinand  I.  and  placed  in  the 
Uffizi.    Ferdinand  III.  moved  it  to  the  Pitti. 

The  dead  Christ  is  supported  by  the  Evangelist, 
while  the  Virgin  kneels  beside  him^  and  clasps  the 
lifeless  hand  in  hers.  There  is  a  refined  and  elevated 
realism  in  the  picture.  Nothing  could  be  more  ex- 
quisite than  the  hands.  The  Magdalen  and  St. 
Catherine  are  on  the  right.  In  the  Magdalen  re- 
morse is  depicted  in  a  restrained  and  untheatric 
attitude,  and  genuine  self -for  getting  sorrow  char- 
acterizes her  expression.  The  colouring  is  good,  St. 
Peter  wearing  a  deep  yellow  robe,  while  the  Mag- 
dalen is  in  green  and  dull  rose  colour.  In  St.  Cath- 
erine the  green  is  continued,  and  is  mixed  with  gold. 


38  xrbe  Hrt  ot  tbe  pittt  palace 

St.  Paul  supplies  the  complementary  red  in  the  com- 
position, and  the  Virgin,  as  usual,  is  in  blue. 

Rembrandt's  portrait  of  himself  is  most  inter- 
esting. As  every  one  knows,  this  artist  was  one  of 
the  greatest  of  the  Holland  school,  flourishing  there 
during  the  seventeenth  century,  and  most  prolific 
in  works  of  striking  light  and  shade.  So  marked 
a  peculiarity  is  it  of  the  Hollander  to  paint  faces 
with  deep  shadows  on  one  side  and  brilliant  light 
on  the  other,  that  his  name  has  come  to  stand  for 
this  style,  and  a  "  Rembrandt  effect "  is  common 
studio  talk  with  every  photographer.  This  por- 
trait depicts  Rembrandt  with  no  beard,  and  was 
executed  about  1634.  The  grand  duke  Ferdi- 
nand ni.  bought  it  in  18 18  from  the  Gerini  Gallery. 

Poor  Rembrandt!  His  life  was  a  pathetic  one, 
for  he  was  a  character  without  real  strength  of  pur- 
pose. In  his  early  days,  married  to  Saskia,  the  wife 
of  his  choice,  and  whom  he  loved  with  all  the  depth 
of  which  his  nature  was  capable,  he  was  a  gay,  light- 
hearted,  good-natured  fellow,  amiable,  devoted,  and 
clever.  After  her  death  everything  was  changed  for 
him.  He  was  one  of  the  few  instances  of  an  artist 
whose  art  is  not  enough  to  engage  his  life  when 
other  conditions  are  changed.  Of  him  literally  it 
may  be  said  that  "  the  light  of  his  whole  life  died 
when  love  was  done."  He  declined  in  every  way. 
He  became  morose  and  brooding  and  indifferent  to 


Ube  1ball  of  HpoUo  89 

the  remaining  claims  of  life.  His  genius  did  not 
dim,  but  it  took  on  a  new  note  of  melancholy. 
Morally,  too,  he  declined.  His  life's  story  is  that 
of  a  weak  nature  from  which  the  one  prop  has  been 
withdrawn. 

Once,  when  Rembrandt  was  in  great  need  of 
funds,  he  took  a  novel  way  to  realize  quickly  on 
some  of  his  belongings.  He  advertized  the  fact 
of  his  own  death,  saw  to  it  that  the  report  had  wide 
cifculation,  and  then  he  announced  a  sale  of  his 
pictures,  finished  and  unfinished,  at  his  own  house. 
The  auction  was  crowded.  The  smallest  sketches 
brought  immense  sums.  When  a  safe  time  had 
elapsed,  Rembrandt  came  to  life  again.  But  he 
found  that  the  Dutchmen  would  never  trust  him 
again. 

Number  36  is  by  Girolamo  da  Carpi,  and  is  a 
portrait  of  Archbishop  Bartolini  Salembeni,  seen  in 
full  face,  in  episcopal  robes  of  violet.  The  portrait 
painted  on  wood,  was  executed  just  after  Salembeni 
had  been  appointed  tO'  the  Cathedral  of  Pisa  by 
Pope  Leo  X.  He  lived  until  1556,  dying  at  the 
age  of  fifty-six  years. 

Another  episcopal  portrait  is  that  of  Bishop 
Girolamo  Argentino,  Number  35,  painted  in  the 
school  of  Morone,  a  Venetian  master  of  the  six- 
teenth century,  of  whom  we  shall  treat  later.  The 
bishop  is  shown  full  face  with  a  gray  beard,  clad  in 


90  Zbc  Hrt  of  tbe  pittt  palace 

a  black  bishop's  robe,  and  wearing  a  beretta.  A 
glove  is  held  in  his  right  hand,  while  the  other  rests 
on  a  parapet.  The  inscription  reads :  "  leronimus 
Argentinus  Episcopus  Eharensis  et  Brachiensis." 

A  large  blonde  Juno  confronts  us  in  Number  37. 
This  picture  is  by  Veronese,  and  is  usually  spoken 
of  as  a  portrait  of  the  wife  of  the  artist,  although 
there  is  no  other  record  to  show  that  the  artist  was 
married.  She  is  turned  three-quarter  face,  looking 
to  the  right.  Taine's  criticism  of  this  picture, 
though  drastic,  is  perhaps  merited.  He  says :  "  This 
portrait  reaches  the  comic.  She  is  forty-eight  years 
old,  double-chinned,  has  the  air  of  a  court-dowager 
and  the  coiffure  of  a  poodle-dog.  She  looks  pompous 
enough,  and  proud  of  her  charms;  her  perfect  con- 
tentment and  general  roundness  suggest  a  fine  turkey 
ready  for  the  spit."  The  lady  wears  beautiful  pearls, 
well  painted  in  the  taste  of  Veronese.  Fortunately 
she  does  not  indulge  in  too  many  colours,  being 
clad  in  a  somewhat  loud  arrangement  of  black  and 
white. 

The  Supper  at  Emmaus,  by  Palma  Vecchio  or 
by  his  school,  hangs  near.  (It  is  possibly  the  work 
of  Zelotti,  a  follower  of  Palma.)  Palma  Vecchio 
was  a  member  of  the  Venetian  school,  1480— 1548. 

In  the  centre  of  the  painting  Christ  is  seated, 
in  a  red  tunic  and  a  black  mantle,  holding  in  one 
hand  the  bread  which  he  is  blessing  with  the  other. 


Ubc  fball  ot  Hpollo  91 

The  pilgrims,  at  opposite  ends  of  the  table,  are  in 
the  act  of  recognizing  their  Master,  and  expressing 
their  surprise  and  awe.  The  servitor,  in  the  dress 
of  a  Venetian  sailor,  is  trying  to  get  the  attention 
of  one  of  the  disciples,  to  ask  whether  he  will  take 
wine,  which  he  carries  in  a  flagon.  In  the  fore- 
ground sits  a  very  breezy  little  dog,  facing  the 
observer,  and  looking  ready  to  bark  on  the  least 
provocation.  The  still-life  is  well  rendered,  but  the 
treatment  of  the  whole  picture  is  less  clear  and 
brilliant  than  most  of  the  works  of  this  master.  An 
open  window  in  the  background  shows  a  charming 
landscape.  The  whole  is  a  well-ordered  group,  but 
without  inspiration. 

Number  39  is  a  Holy  Family,  by  Bronzino.  It 
is  painted  on  wood.  The  Holy  Child  rests  asleep 
in  the  foreground,  with  his  head  supported  on  cush- 
ions, and  is  being  embraced  by  the  young  St.  John. 
His  mother,  in  a  blue  mantle  and  a  robe  of  rose, 
together  with  St.  Joseph,  are  just  behind  the  chil- 
dren. The  background  represents  a  castle  on  a 
hill.  The  Madonna  is  distinctly  Greek  in  type,  and 
classic  in  the  arrangement  of  her  hair  and  draperies. 
Her  dress,  which  is  a  clinging  diaphanous  robe, 
has  a  closely  fitted  neck-band,  which  extends  in  a 
deep  point  in  front,  secured  by  a  jewel. 

The  St.  Julian  of  Christofano  Allori,  Number  41, 
is  a  significant  composition,  rendered  peculiarly  at- 


92  Ube  Hrt  ot  tbe  ptttt  palace 

tractive  by  the  young  figure  which  occupies  the 
central  place,  and  by  the  lights,  which  are  thrown 
in  a  convincing  manner.  The  legend  of  St.  Julian 
is  familiar,  but  the  picture  can  hardly  be  interpreted 
without  an  allusion  to  it.  St.  Julian  Hospitator, 
when  a  young  man,  had  accidentally  slain  his  father 
and  his  mother  —  the  story  is  a  long  one  —  under 
a  misconception  that  they  were  robbers.  The  re- 
morse which  he  suffered  was  the  special  cause  of 
his  conversion,  leading  him  to  welcome  all  strangers 
with  unwonted  hospitality.  So  it  is  told  that  one 
night,  while  in  his  little  boat  on  the  lake,  he  heard 
a  mournful  voice  crying  out  to  him  for  help,  and, 
listening,  guided  by  the  tones  to  the  opposite  side 
of  the  river,  he  found  a  poor  leper  boy,  who  wished 
to  be  taken  across  the  stream.  Instantly  Julian 
rowed  across,  took  the  youth  in  his  boat,  and  con- 
veyed him  to  his  own  house,  where  he  laid  him  in 
his  bed,  lavishing  on  him  every  tenderness  and  care. 
In  the  morning  the  young  leper  arose,  and,  throwing 
off  his  disguise,  stood  revealed  as  the  Christ,  say- 
ing to  Julian,  "  The  Lord  hath  sent  me  to  thee,  for 
thy  penitence  is  accepted,  and  thy  rest  is  near  at 
hand."  Not  long  after  that  the  faithful  Julian  died, 
and  was  recognized  as  a  saint. 

In  the  picture,  the  scene  selected  for  representation 
is  the  moment  when  the  leprous  youth  is  being  lifted 
carefully  from  the  boat  to  the  shore.     St.  Julian, 


Ube  lball  of  Hpollo  93 

In  a  red  tunic  and  a  blue  mantle,  receives  the  leper, 
while  a  sailor  assists  him  to  step  ashore.  The  boat- 
man on  the  right  wears  a  red  drapery  about  his 
head,  while  a  yellow  stuff  girds  his  loins;  in  the 
background  the  wife  of  Julian  is  seen  dispensing 
charity  to  other  poor  wayfarers  on  the  doorsteps  of 
her  house. 

It  must  be  admitted  that  the  picture  is  not  exactly 
realistic.  The  leper  is  too  prophetic  of  what  he  is 
to  appear  the  next  morning.  But  his  figure  is  be- 
yond criticism  as  a  lovely  conception  of  youthful 
beauty  and  an  example  of  fine  drawing.  All  the 
heads  and  faces  are  idealized  into  beautiful  types; 
it  is  by  most  critics  said  to  be  the  masterpiece  of 
Allori.  The  gesture  of  the  youth,  as  he  steps  lightly 
to  the  shore,  where  St.  Julian  has  landed  before  him 
so  that  he  may  be  there  to  render  assistance,  is 
very  graceful.  The  semi-nude  figure  of  the  boat- 
man looming  up  against  the  sky  is  a  fine  piece  of 
colour  and  design,  but  there  is  little  of  the  usual 
ruggedness  of  the  Italian  boatman  about  him. 

Number  42  is  a  soft,  pleasing,  harmless  repre- 
sentation of  the  Magdalen,  by  Perugino,  of  whom 
we  shall  hear  more  later.  In  this  picture,  the  subject 
is  not  the  object,  if  one  may  be  permitted  to  use 
such  an  expression.  It  is  simply  a  charming,  rather 
affected  girl,  with  pretty  brown  shadows ;  her  name 
is  seen  on  her  red  corsage.    Her  hands  are  meekly 


94  Ube  Hrt  of  tbe  ptttt  palace 

crossed  on  her  breast.  She  wears  a  green  mantle 
with  a  furred  edge  which  is  soft  and  attractive. 
Perugino  evidently  beHeved  in  penitence  understood 
rather  than  expressed. 

The  Salembeni  Holy  Family  is  very  attractive. 
The  scene  is  an  interior  —  rather  an  unusual  choice 
for  the  subject.  Mary  and  Joseph  are  sitting  by 
a  table  with  the  Holy  Child,  while  through  a  door 
at  the  back  the  domestic  sights  of  the  kitchen  are 
visible.  On  the  floor,  little  St.  John  stands,  or 
rather  runs,  his  arms  full  of  tiny  puppies,  while 
the  mother  dog  behind  him  is  chasing  him  for  having 
taken  away  her  young  ones.  At  the  left,  St.  Eliz- 
abeth is  seated,  spinning.  She  and  the  others  are 
laughing,  much  amused  at  the  incident. 

Next  to  this  occurs  Cigoli's  St.  Francis,  quite 
a  familiar  subject  and  well  painted.  The  scene  is 
an  outdoor  one,  with  the  saint  clad  in  his  brown 
habit  in  an  attitude  of  ecstasy,  kneeling  before  a 
crucifix.  In  the  background  may  be  seen  the  con- 
vent of  La  Vernia.  The  face  and  hands  are  beau- 
tifully rendered,  and  the  whole  tone  and  manner  of 
the  painting  restful  and  devotional. 

The  Young  Bacchus,  by  Guido  Reni,  is  a  more 
cheerful  subject.  This  is  a  bright,  laughing  face, 
in  contrast  with  much  of  this  artist's  work.  Guido 
Reni  does  not  often  choose  a^ pagan  subject;  when 
he  makes  such  a  selection,  he  does  it  full  justice. 


Xlbe  Iball  ot  Hpollo  95 

The  child  Bacchus  holds  on  a  platter  a  graceful  cup 
near  his  lips,  and  is  about  to  drink  of  its  brimming 
contents.  A  little  attendant  carries  a  large  jug, 
evidently  prepared  to  fill  up  the  cup  when  it  needs 
to  be  replenished.  On  both  childish  faces  is  an 
expression  of  enjoyment.  Although  the  face  of 
Bacchus  is  that  of  a  child,  Guido  has  succeeded  in 
infusing  into  the  youthful  mirth  of  his  smile  a  cer- 
tain flavour  of  worldliness,  such  as  one  sometimes 
sees  in  the  face  of  a  street  urchin  who  has  had  to 
turn  his  wits  to  his  own  support  early  in  life. 

The  painting  of  the  detail  of  the  picture  is  most 
exquisite,  notably  the  treatment  of  the  grape-vine, 
which  is  entwined  around  the  head  of  the  young 
deity.  The  leaves  are  just  at  the  point  of  wilting 
a  little,  as  they  would  do  in  contact  with  the  warm 
little  person.  Young  Bacchus  is  a  genuine  rogue, 
with  all  the  fascination  of  a  pretty,  mischievous 
child. 

Number  49  is  a  most  engaging  little  portrait  of 
the  infant  Prince  Leopold  de  Medici,  by  Tiberio 
Tito.  It  was  painted  in  1617.  Prince  Leopold 
being  the  son  of  the  Grand  Duke  Cosimo  IL,  the 
picture  was  probably  actually  executed  at  the  Pitti 
Palace,  for  it  is  unlikely  that  a  royal  baby  would 
have  been  carried  to  a  studio,  "  cradle  and  all !  "  He 
lies  on  a  couch,  the  general  effect  of  the  colouring 
being  golden  and  pearl.    He  is  apparently  quite  nude, 


96  xrbe  Hrt  ot  tbe  iptttt  palace 

and  lies  in  a  placid,  phlegmatic  way,  with  his  little 
bare  toes  peeping  out,  not  seeming  to  mind  the  con- 
tact of  the  embroidered  coverlet,  which  looks  as 
if  it  must  have  scratched.  The  textiles  in  this 
picture  are  most  delightful. 

This  was  the  Prince  Leopold  who  was  made  a 
cardinal  by  Clement  X.,  and  who  devoted  his  life 
to  literature  and  art.  He  was  specially  interested 
in  portraits,  and  the  large  collection  at  the  Uffizi  was 
made  by  him.  He  also  left  many  pictures  to  the 
Pitti  collection.  He  died  in  1675,  ^^  fifty-eight  years 
of  age. 

The  subject  of  this  picture  is  so  engrossing  that 
we  have  so  far  neglected  the  artist,  who  was  a  Flor- 
entine, doing  most  of  his  work  in  the  early  seven- 
teenth century.  He  painted  principally  miniatures, 
and  many  were  bought  by  this  same  Cardinal  Leo- 
pold de  Medici.  Some  of  them  may  be  seen  in  the 
royal  collection.  Though  somewhat  stiff,  his  figures 
are  delicately  handled,  and  his  still-life  is  usually 
fine. 

Guercino's  interesting  group  of  St.  Peter  raising 
the  Widow  Tabitha  (Dorcas)  is  the  one  numbered 
50.  The  lights  and  shadows  are  extremely  marked, 
as  they  generally  are  in  the  pictures  by  this  artist. 
This  picture  is  by  many  considered  to  be  the  master- 
piece of  Guercino.  It  was  painted  in  16 18,  when 
he  was  at  the  height  of  his  power. 


^  < 

Q     ° 


Ube  Iball  ot  Hpollo  97 

In  Guercino's  painting,  the  young  widow,  the  light 
striking  full  upon  her  face  and  her  feet  and  illuminat- 
ing the  long  outlines  of  the  body,  lies  extended  on  her 
bier  at  the  right  of  the  canvas.  St.  Peter  in  a  com- 
manding attitude  stands  by  the  bier,  his  right  hand 
raised  in  pronouncing  his  command  to  the  dead  to 
rise  again,  while  his  left  hand  grasps  his  cloak  about 
him.  His  figure  and  head  are  superbly  drawn.  Sev- 
eral people  stand  about  in  attitudes  of  sorrow.  The 
first  to  attract  the  eye  is  the  figure  of  a  woman  on 
the  right,  near  the  bier.  With  both  hands  on  her 
breast,  and  her  upturned  face  evincing  the  utmost 
sorrow,  she  is  imploring  the  saint  to  perform  his 
miracle.  The  lights  are  thrown  strenuously  upon 
this  figure,  which  is  most  lovely,  as  also  upon  the 
back  of  a  woman  on  the  extreme  left,  whose  draper- 
ies and  head-dress  recall  some  of  the  noble,  stalwart 
women  of  Tintoretto.  This  woman  carries  a  small 
child  in  her  arms.  The  colours  of  brown  and  white 
about  her  are  warm  and  rich,  and  the  handling  of 
the  whole  picture  is  delightful. 

Cigoli's  "  Deposition  "  rather  suggests  the  poses 
of  models.  It  is  not  an  especially  sympathetic  ren- 
dering of  the  subject.  Number  51.  Hanging  in  the 
same  room  with  the  magnificent  painting  of  Fra 
Bartolommeo,  it  suflFers  by  contrast. 

Three  disciples  are  seen  lowering  the  body  from 
the  cross,  while  St.  John,  in  a  red  robe,  sustains  the 


98  Ube  Hrt  ot  tbe  ipttti  palace 

feet  of  the  dead  Christ.  At  the  left  is  the  Virgin 
in  tears,  with  the  nails  and  the  crown  of  thorns  at 
her  feet.  Mary  Cleophas,  Nicodemus,  and  others, 
stand  about  in  various  poses.  The  Magdalen  kneels, 
and  there  are  angels  hovering  in  the  air.  The  Mag- 
dalen's back  is  turned,  and  is  well  drawn.  She  is 
clad  in  glowing  satins.  The  Madonna,  in  the  fore- 
ground, is  the  best  figure.  She  turns  away  from 
the  painful  sight,  and  her  face  expresses  real  grief 
—  not  a  stage  substitute,  —  the  tears  coursing  down 
her  cheeks,  and  her  brow  drawn  with  anguish.  Her 
face  is  thoroughly  expressive.  Ecstatic  and  theat- 
trical  elements  are  absent  in  this  picture. 

Number  52,  the  Sacra  Conversazione  (a  name 
usually  given  to  a  Holy  Family  in  which  other 
saints  appear),  by  Pordenone,  is  an  interesting  pic- 
ture of  the  Venetian  school.  A  very  Venetian  treat- 
ment of  the  subject  it  is,  too  —  the  personages  are 
all  clad  in  damasks  and  stuffs  such  as  the  lagoons 
were  famous  for  in  the  days  of  the  artist. 

A  striking  canvas  is  Number  73,  Spagnoletto's 
St.  Francis,  who  is  seen  to  the  knees,  standing.  His 
eyes  are  cast  up  to  heaven,  and  he  holds  in  his  hands 
a  human  skull.  There  are  no  other  accessories.  The 
man  and  his  attitude  tell  the  whole  story.  It  is  very 
dramatic,  without  being  theatrical. 

Number  55  is  a  charming  baby  portrait  of  the 
much-upholstered  little  Duke  of  Urbino,  by  Baroccio. 


Ubc  Iball  of  Hpollo  99 

Nothing  could  be  more  appealing  than  the  sweet 
little  face,  the  only  sign  of  life  amidst  the  stiff  rich- 
ness of  his  wrappings,  looking  out  from  this  mass 
of  the  gorgeous  detail  of  his  pompous  surroundings. 
Little  Federigo  lies  in  his  cradle,  covered  with  richly 
embroidered  stuffs.  He  was  the  son  of  Francesco 
Maria  of  Urbino;  while  he  was  still  a  youth,  he 
married  the  daughter  of  Ferdinand  I.  de  Medici, 
and  his  own  daughter  was  that  Princess  Vittoria 
della  Rovere  who  married  Ferdinand  II.,  so  in  this 
way  this  royal  baby  was  doubly  connected  with  the 
family  at  the  Pitti  Palace. 

A  pretty  Holy  Family,  by  Andrea  del  Sarto,  is 
Number  62.  The  children  are  beautifully  rendered, 
and  are  both  of  exquisite  grace.  The  mother  is 
seen  in  profile,  and  St.  Joseph  is  asleep.  The  whole 
is  in  Andrea's  warm,  rich  colour,  and  the  compo- 
sition is  satisfactory.  It  was  painted  in  1521,  for 
Zanobi  Bracci. 

Maratta  has  painted  St.  Philip  Neri  on  his  knees 
in  adoration  before  an  altar.  He  is  clad  in  rich 
brocade  vestments.  The  figure  is  graceful,  with 
both  arms  extended;  the  Madonna  appears  above 
the  altar.  St.  Philip  Neri  was  one  of  the  sanest, 
most  practical,  and  thoroughly  good  men  of  his 
times. 


CHAPTER   V. 


THE    HALL   OF    MARS 


In  the  Hall  of  Mars  we  may  see  two  of  the  best 
examples  of  Rubens's  work^  exhibiting  all  his 
talents,  and  few  of  his  blemishes.  These  two  pic- 
tures are  Mars  Preparing  for  War  (sometimes 
called  The  Consequences  of  War),  and  the  noble 
portrait  group  of  the  Rubens  Brothers  with  the 
philosophers,  Lipsius  and  Grotius. 

Examining  first  the  great  allegorical  painting, 
Mars  Preparing  for  War,  one  is  struck  with  the 
variety  in  its  action  and  the  breadth  of  its  treatment. 
It  was  painted  about  1625.  It  is  entirely  the  work 
of  Rubens,  not  laid  in  and  painted  largely  by  his 
pupils,  as  were  many  of  his  pictures.  It  exhibits 
nearly  all  the  characteristics  of  his  style.  The  cen- 
tral figure.  Mars,  clad  in  armour,  with  sword  and 
shield,  is  pressing  onward  to  war,  led  by  one  of 
the  Furies,  Alecto,  who,  with  the  torch  of  Discord 
extended  in  her  sinewy  right  hand,  grasps  and  pulls 
the  warrior  with  her  left.     Although  his  steps  do 


Ot 


,r     rV'lUV^slO^ 


not  falter,  and  the  action  of  his  whole  body  is  for- 
ward to  do  the  behest  of  the  Fury,  yet  Mars  turns 
his  head  and  looks  regretfully  back  at  the  volup- 
tuous figure  of  Venus,  who  is  clinging  to  him,  on 
the  other  side,  —  a  beautiful  nude,  with  all  the 
plump  yet  pliant  qualities  of  Rubens's  women. 
Venus  is  attended  by  Love,  who  also  pleads  with 
Mars,  but  in  vain.  The  arrows  and  the  bow  of 
Cupid  lie  unheeded  on  the  ground,  and  other 
weapons  are  to  supplant  them. 

Mars  treads  relentlessly  upon  an  open  book,  while 
beneath  his  stalwart  form,  stretched  helpless  on  the 
ground  in  the  shadow,  lies  an  allegorical  figure  of 
Study.  Harmony,  symbolized  by  a  woman  bearing 
a  lute,  has  also  been  thrown  down;  his  next  step 
bids  fair  to  encroach  upon  her.  Farther  to  the  right, 
also  dashed  to  the  ground  and  holding  aloft  a  com- 
pass, the  instrument  by  which  his  art  is  made  of 
use,  is  the  figure  typical  of  Architecture.  A  broken 
capital  lies  at  his  left  hand.  Charity,  grasping  an 
infant  in  her  arms,  is  seen  behind  these.  In  the  air 
hover  emblematic  figures  of  Famine  and  Pestilence. 

On  the  left  of  the  picture  is  seen  the  open  portal 
of  the  Temple  of  Janus,  and  Europe,  in  dire  despair, 
both  arms  upstretched  and  her  face  expressive  of 
suffering,  leans  tottering  forward,  symbolical  of  the 
overthrow  of  Empire.  In  the  shadow  of  the  left 
corner  sits  a  little  nude  child  with  a  crystal  globe, rc 


#i#^ : 


V,V.VN^--^^'' 


\i^A^' 


V^^  ' 


^,tQz.:\r:':JL'bc  Hrt  ot  tbe  ptttt  palace 

upon  which  is  a  cross.  In  the  far  distance  may  be 
discerned  a  battle  in  progress. 

Peter  Paul  Rubens  was  perhaps  the  greatest 
master  of  the  Flemish  school.  He  was  born  in 
1577.  He  spent  some  time  in  Italy,  going  there 
first  in  1600.  He  was  especially  drawn  to  Venice, 
where  the  progress  of  art  appealed  to  him.  When 
he  arrived  there,  the  great  Venetians,  Titian  Tintor- 
etto and  Veronese,  had  all  been  dead  for  some  years ; 
but  the  inspiration  of  their  work  made  much  im- 
pression on  the  Flemish  artist.  In  October,  1607, 
there  is  a  record  of  his  having  been  in  Florence  in 
order  to  attend  one  of  the  noted  Medicean  mar- 
riages. In  1608  he  returned  to  Antwerp  and 
married,  his  first  wife  being  Isabella  Brandt. 

The  jealousies  of  artists  never  made  much  im- 
pression upon  Rubens,  whose  genial  spirit  rose 
above  all  such  petty  annoyances.  He  used  to  say: 
"Do  well,  and  people  will  be  jealous  of  you;  do 
better,  and  you  will  overcome  their  jealousy."  He 
was  of  an  affable,  cheerful  disposition,  always  a 
careful  student.  In  1626  his  wife  died,  and  he 
remained  a  widower  until  1630,  when  he  married 
Helen  Fourment,  she  being  then  sixteen  and  he 
fifty-three. 

Rubens  was  quite  a  traveller,  and  visited  Spain 
and  England  as  well  as  Italy.  He  was  also  a  states- 
man, and  was  entrusted  with  some  diplomatic  work. 


XTbe  Iball  of  /IDars  103 

He  was  a  rich  man,  and  well  born.  This  combina- 
tion has  ever  been  rare  in  artists.  While  on  a  diplo- 
matic mission  to  England,  a  London  nobleman 
happened  to  say  to  him :  "  I  hear  that  the  ambassa- 
dor amuses  himself  sometimes  with  painting."  To 
which  Rubens  replied :  "  No ;  the  painter  amuses 
himself  with  diplomacy." 

Rubens  died  in  May,  1640.  Antwerp  was 
clouded  with  gloom  and  sorrow  on  the  occasion 
of  his  passing  away.  His  Hfe  had  been  very  pre- 
cious to  his  native  city,  and  he  was  endeared  to  all 
by  his  winning  personality. 

The  characteristic  of  his  painting  is  primarily 
light,  —  joyous  sunlight,  —  warm,  soft  flesh-paint- 
ing, with  perhaps  a  superabundance  of  the  pink 
glow  of  blonde  and  ruddy  colouring;  he  delighted 
in  portraying  the  nude,  for,  as  his  biographer,  Cal- 
vert, remarks,  "  To  a  capable  painter,  nakedness 
is  his  opportunity."  It  has  been  questioned  whether 
as  a  follower  of  the  Renaissance  he  was  in  sympathy 
with  Greek  art;  I  should  say,  rather  with  Roman, 
and  sometimes  pretty  degenerate  Roman  at  that. 
While  in  his  life  he  was  unimpeachable,  in  his  works 
he  is  sometimes  sensual.  Mrs.  Jameson  has 
summed  up  his  defects  thus :  "  To  venture  to  judge 
Rubens,"  she  says,  "  we  ought  to  have  seen  a  great 
many  of  his  pictures.  His  defects  may  be  acknowl- 
edged once  for  all;    they  are  in  all  senses  gross, 


I04        Ube  Hrt  of  tbe  ptttt  palace 

open,  palpable;  his  florid  colour,  dazzling  and  gar- 
ish in  its  indiscriminate  excess;  his  exaggerated 
redundant  forms;  his  coarse  allegories;  his  his- 
torical improprieties;  his  vulgar  and  prosaic  ver- 
sions of  the  loftiest  and  most  delicate  creations  of 
poetry;  let  all  these  be  granted  ...  if  he  painted 
heavy  forms,  has  he  not  given  them  souls?  and 
animated  them  with  all  his  own  exuberance  of  vital- 
ity and  volition  ?  ** 

Rubens  painted  about  fifteen  hundred  works,  — 
the  most  immense  number  ever  produced  by  one 
artist.  Contentment  was  one  of  his  greatest  charms. 
One  day  he  was  visited  by  an  alchemist,  who  tried 
to  tempt  him  to  injudicious  investment  in  a  supposed 
discovery  of  the  Philosopher's  Stone.  He  informed 
the  alchemist  that  he  had  himself  discovered  it. 
The  visitor  exclaimed  with  surprise.  Rubens  held 
up  his  palette,  replying,  "  Here,  I  will  show  it  you ! '' 

He  worked  altogether  from  living  models;  and 
while  he  was  painting  in  Paris  he  wrote  the  follow- 
ing letter  to  M.  de  Chennievres,  asking  him  to 
secure  him  certain  models  for  three  sirens  which  he 
had  occasion  to  paint :  "  I  beg  of  you  to  arrange 
for  us  that  there  may  be  retained  for  me,  in  the 
third  week  following  this  one,  the  two  ladies  Cas- 
saio,  from  the  Rue  de  Vertbois,  and  also  that  little 
niece,  Louisa;  for  I  reckon  making  three  studies 
for  sirens,  and  these  three  persons  will  be  to  me 


Uhc  Iball  of  /iDars  105 

of  great  succour  and  help,  much  on  account  of  the 
expression  of  their  faces,  and  still  more  from  their 
magnificent  black  hair,  which  I  should  have  diffi- 
culty in  finding  elsewhere;  the  same  with  their 
figures." 

*'  Whatever  imperfections  in  his  art  may  have 
resulted  from  his  unfortunate  want  of  seriousness 
and  incapability  of  true  passion,"  says  Ruskin,  "  his 
calibre  of  mind  was  such  that  I  believe  the  world 
may  see  another  Titian  and  another  Raphael  before 
it  sees  another  Rubens." 

This  is  saying  a  great  deal  for  Ruskin,  with  his 
mediaeval  and  ascetic  preferences;  but  Ruskin  is 
very  generous  in  his  remarks  about  Rubens,  and 
he  so  clearly  defines  the  position  of  Rubens  in  the 
world  of  art  that  it  is  well  to  give  his  own  words 
on  this  subject :  "  While  Angelico  wept  and  prayed 
in  his  olive-shade,  there  was  different  work  doing 
in  the  dank  fields  of  Flanders  .  .  .  much  hardening 
of  hands  and  gross  stoutening  of  bodies  in  all  this; 
.  .  .  fleshy,  substantial,  iron-shod  humanities,  but 
humanities  still,  —  humanities  which  God  had  his 
eye  upon,  and  which  won,  perhaps,  ...  as  much 
favour  in  his  sight  as  the  wasted  aspect  of  the  whis- 
pering monks  of  Florence.  (Heaven  forbid  that 
it  should  not  be  so,  for  most  of  us  cannot  be  monks, 
but  must  be  ploughmen  and  reapers  still!)  And 
are  we  to  suppose  that  there  is  no  nobility  in  Ru- 


io6        Ube  Hrt  ot  tbe  pttti  palace 

bens's  masculine  and  universal  sympathy  with  all 
this,  and  with  his  large  human  rendering  of  it, 
gentleman  though  he  was  by  birth  and  feeling  and 
education  and  place  ...  he  had  his  faults,  perhaps 
great  and  lamentable  faults,  though  more  those  of 
his  time  and  his  country  than  his  own;  he  has 
neither  cloister  breeding  nor  boudoir  breeding,  and 
is  very  unfit  to  paint  either  in  missals  or  in  annuals ; 
but  he  has  an  open-sky  and  wide-world  breeding  in 
him,  that  we  may  not  be  offended  with,  fit  alike  for 
a  king's  court,  a  knight's  camp,  and  a  peasant's 
cottage." 

The  celebrated  portrait  of  Rubens  and  his  brother, 
together  with  the  two  philosophers,  Lipsius  and 
Grotius,  is  next  to  the  painting  just  described.  It 
is  as  fine  as  some  of  Titian's  portraits,  and  is  one 
of  the  best  things  ever  done  by  Rubens. 

In  a  room  with  marble  columns  and  a  delightful 
outlook  upon  a  fortified  town,  three  persons  are 
seated  around  a  table,  while  one,  the  painter  him- 
self, stands  modestly  at  one  side.  He  has  a  red 
beard  and  moustache;  this  is  as  satisfactory  a  por- 
trait of  himself  as  any  that  Rubens  has  executed. 

Phillip  Rubens,  the  brother  of  the  artist,  sits  next 
him,  at  the  left  of  the  picture,  holding  a  pen.  He 
is  a  handsome  fellow,  younger  than  his  celebrated 
brother,  but  much  like  him.  His  hair  is  darker  and 
thicker.    He  wears  a  full  ruff.    This  Phillip  Rubens 


FOUR   PHILOSOPHERS 
By  Rubens ;  in  the  Hall  of  Mars 


...HUTMENT  ur 


Ube  t)aU  of  flbaxB  107 

was  quite  a  celebrated  philologist.  He  was  taken 
to  Rome  by  Peter  Paul,  and  there  became  librarian 
to  Cardinal  Colonna.  He  was  made  Secretary  of 
the  Senate  on  his  return  to  Antwerp  in  1609. 

On  the  right  occupying  the  centre  of  the  com- 
position, is  Lipsius,  his  finger  resting  upon  an  open 
book.  Justus  Lipsius  (1547— 1606)  was  a  distin- 
guished humanist,  born  in  Brabant.  Though  edu- 
cated by  the  Jesuits,  he  early  took  the  Protestant 
side,  but  later  returned  to  the  Church.  At  Ley  den 
he  taught  for  eleven  years,  and  during  this  time 
he  prepared  his  editions  of  Seneca  and  Tacitus. 
His  classical  knowledge  and  his  respect  for  antiquity 
gave  him  a  great  reputation  as  a  scholar,  and  his 
political  writings  were  used  as  a  justification  of 
persecution. 

Grotius  is  in  profile.  He  was  bom  in  Delft,  in 
1583,  and  was  a  great  jurist,  diplomat,  and  ecclesi- 
astical debater.  As  a  youth,  his  precocious  genius 
was  famous.  At  nine,  he  made  good  Latin  verse, 
was  ready  for  the  university  at  twelve,  and  at  fif- 
teen edited  the  extensive  works  of  Marcianus  Ca- 
pella.  With  Erasmus,  he  was  one  of  the  famous 
scholars  of  his  age.  His  treatise,  "  De  Jure  Belli," 
was  a  masterpiece.  In  161 5  he  was  one  of  a  depu- 
tation to  England.  Causabon  wrote  of  him :  "  I 
cannot  say  how  happy  I  esteem  myself  in  having 
seen  so  much  of  one  so  truly  great  as  Grotius,  — 


io8        ube  Htt  ot  tbe  ptttt  ©alace 

a  wonderful  man!  This  I  knew  him  to  be  before 
I  saw  him,  but  the  rare  excellences  of  that  divine 
genius  no  one  can  sufficiently  feel  who  does  not 
see  his  face  and  hear  him  speak.  Probity  is  stamped 
upon  his  features;  his  conversation  savours  of  true 
piety  and  profound  learning."  His  reputation  rests 
upon  his  varied  accomplishments  and  his  scholarly 
and  scientific  work.  He  was  a  countryman  of  whom 
Rubens  was  proud,  and  there  was  a  sympathetic 
interest  between  the  two,  owing  to  their  somewhat 
similar  talents  in  learning  and  diplomacy. 

The  still  life  in  the  picture  is  excellent,  especially 
a  little  vase  of  transparent  glass,  holding  tulips, 
placed  by  the  bust  of  Seneca  (tulips  being  the  fa- 
vourite flower  of  Lipsius).  The  vellum  books  on 
the  table  are  finely  rendered,  and  the  detail  of  the 
costumes  and  accessories  beautifully  handled. 
There  is  hardly  any  bright  colour  in  the  picture. 
The  chief  intention  of  the  master  has  been  to  give 
lifelike  portraits  of  the  men,  rather  than  to  compose 
a  decorative  picture. 

St.  Francis  by  Rubens  is  one  of  the  most  delight- 
fully graceful  figures.  The  saint  is  kneeling,  and 
is  seen  only  half-length;  he  is  in  profile,  and  the 
lines  of  the  figure  are  strong  and  lithe,  canted  a  little 
backward  from  the  hips;  he  is  outside  his  grotto, 
in  prayer,  appealing  directly  to  the  heavens  above 
him. 


Xlbe  Iball  ot  /iDars  109 

Generally  acknowledged  as  one  of  the  greatest 
historical  portraits  in  the  world,  Raphael's  Pope 
Julius  11.  stands  out  in  its  dusky  whites  and  rich 
brown  reds.  There  has  been  some  controversy  as 
to  which  is  the  original,  —  this  one  in  the  Pitti, 
or  the  one  in  the  Uffizi.  A  very  impartial  statement 
of  the  reasons  for  the  disagreement  is  given  by 
Henry  Strachey,  in  a  recent  scholarly  monograph 
on  Raphael,  which  I  quote.  Strachey  points  out 
the  difference  between  the  two  portraits,  so  that  one 
having  the  facts  to  go  upon  may  accept  either  ver- 
dict as  it  seems  to  him  most  convincing: 

"  The  mouth  in  the  Uffizi  portrait  is  of  quite  a 
different  shape  from  that  of  the  Pitti.  In  the  former 
the  lips  are  scarcely  visible,  while  the  corners  of 
the  mouth  are  turned  down  decidedly.  It  is,  in 
fact,  a  horrible  mouth.  Now,  in  the  Pitti  example, 
the  lips  are  clearly  shown,  and  the  corners  of  the 
mouth  softened.  But  the  mouth  has  become  a  char- 
acterless one.  The  same  process  has  been  at  work 
upon  the  nose.  In  the  Uffizi  the  nose  is  big  and 
bulbous  at  the  end,  while  the  top  of  the  nostril 
on  the  left  runs  up  to  a  point  suggesting  the  lifting 
of  the  nostril  for  a  snarl.  The  top  of  this  nostril 
in  the  Pitti  is  not  so  pointed,  and  the  end  of  the 
nose  is  less  heavy.  The  eyes  in  the  Pitti  picture 
are  deep  sunk  and  somewhat  dull,  while  in  the  Uffizi 
portrait  sudden  lights  and  shadows  give  them  ex- 


no        Ube  Hrt  ot  tbe  ptttt  palace 

traordinary  vivacity.  The  whole  face  in  the  Uffizi 
has  the  air  of  having  preserved  the  accidents  of 
the  sitter's  features,  while  that  in  the  Pitti  seems 
to  be  rather  a  courtly  softening  of  unpleasant  char- 
acteristics. But  the  authentic  portraits  of  Raphael 
show  him  to  have  been  relentless  in  his  naturalism." 
Probably  the  question  will  never  be  settled  to  the 
satisfaction  of  all. 

The  best  picture  that  Cigoli  ever  painted  is  the 
Ecce  Homo,  Number  90.  The  group  of  three  fig- 
ures is  placed  on  a  balcony.  Pilate  has  brought 
Jesus  forth  to  show  him  to  the  multitude.  In  the 
centre  Christ  is  seen  standing  full  face,  crowned  with 
the  Crown  of  Thorns,  and  his  hands  confined  to- 
gether by  a  chain.  At  one  side  a  man  in  a  torn 
white  shirt  and  a  red  hat  is  removing  the  mantle 
with  which  the  Saviour  has  been  covered,  while 
Pilate,  in  a  yellow  brocade  robe  and  a  turban,  leans 
forward,  pointing  to  the  sufferer,  and  is  in  the 
act  of  exclaiming,  "  Behold  the  Man ! "  The  ex- 
pression in  Pilate's  eyes  is  that  of  extenuation  and 
pleading  with  the  populace  for  mercy.  The  soldiers 
are  grouped  in  the  background  awaiting  orders.  On 
the  balustrade  lies  the  scourge.  The  drawing  and 
colouring  are  both  excellent.  It  is,  on  the  whole, 
as  satisfactory  a  treatment  of  this  painful  subject 
as  any  presented  in  the  Renaissance  school.  The 
fatigue  and  human  endurance  are  well  depicted  on 


ECCE    HOMO 
By  Cigoli;  in  the  Hall  of  Mars 


-^.*>i?  VQ 


Xlbe  Iball  ot  ^ara  m 

the  face  of  Christ.  It  comes  nearer  being  a  natural 
representation  of  suffering  than  most  paintings  deal- 
ing with  this  scene.  The  artist  has  caught  the  true 
interpretation  of  the  moment  chosen  for  portrayal. 
There  is  the  languor  of  physical  pain,  not  yet  relieved 
by  any  uplifting  spiritual  exaltation.  The  hands 
are  not  so  well  managed.  They  are  a  little  lacking 
in  virility ;  they  are  effeminate  and  small,  —  hardly 
the  hands  of  a  Galilean  peasant  who  had  worked 
at  the  carpenter's  trade.  The  hands  are  the  only 
really  weak  element  in  the  picture. 

The  history  of  this  picture  is  an  interesting  one. 
Monseigneur  Massimi  wished  to  obtain  the  best 
painting  which  could  be  produced  dealing  with  this 
subject.  So  he  gave  the  order  to  three  artists,  Pas- 
signano,  Caravaggio,  and  Cigoli.  Neither  of  these 
men  was  aware  that  there  were  other  competitors. 
When  the  three  pictures  were  presented,  that  of 
Cigoli  was  so  far  superior  to  the  others  that  the 
prelate  returned  them  and  retained  only  this  one. 
It  was  afterwards  owned  by  the  celebrated  musician, 
Giovanni  Severi,  and  later,  through  him,  came  into 
possession  of  the  Medici. 

A  portrait  which  one  would  like  to  think  of  as 
a  companion  piece  to  the  Bella  of  Titian  is  Titian's 
portrait  of  a  young  man  in  black.  Number  92.  The 
type  is  very  Venetian,  with  reddish-brown  hair  and 
blue  eyes,  and  finely  chiselled  features;    but  it  is 


112         xrbe  Hrt  of  tbe  pittt  palace 

generally  alluded  to  as  a  portrait  of  Howard,  Duke 
of  Norfolk.  The  subject  stands  almost  full-face, 
with  one  hand  placed  carelessly  on  his  hip,  while 
he  holds  a  glove  in  the  other.  Taine,  in  his  "  Voy- 
age en  Italic,"  speaks  in  highest  terms  of  this  por- 
trait :  "  It  is  one  of  the  greatest  masterpieces  that 
I  know  of.  It  represents  a  man  of  thirty-five  years, 
all  in  black,  grave,  with  a  steady  gaze;  the  face 
rather  thin,  the  eyes  pale  blue ;  a  delicate  moustache 
meets  his  slight  beard.  He  is  of  a  great  race,  but 
he  has  seen  more  than  one  manoeuvre  of  life;  de- 
lights, anxieties,  the  knowledge  of  danger  have  left 
their  marks  upon  his  face  ...  it  is  the  face  of 
one  energetic,  yet  weary,  and  also  a  dreamer." 

The  canvas  shows  the  figure  half-length,  but  the 
drawing  is  life-size.  This  portrait  is  so  striking 
that  it  is  remarkable  that  we  have  no  record  of  it 
other  than  that  it  was  painted  by  the  great  Vene- 
tian. The  black  texture  of  the  garment  is  that  of 
silk,  not  velvet.  This  portrait  has  unusual  virility, 
—  is  wonderfully  alive. 

Titian  has  been  quoted  as  saying  that  red,  white, 
and  black  are  the  only  colours  an  artist  needs.  At 
first  glance  one  would  say  that  he  had  literally  car- 
ried out  this  theory  in  the  picture ;  but,  like  much  of 
Titian's  work,  upon  closer  examination  it  will  be 
found  to  glow  with  that  ineffable  quality  of  han- 
dling which  Ruskin  has  aptly  called  "  a  peculiar  mys- 


HOWARD,    DUKE    OF    NORFOLK   (DETAIL) 
By  Titian ;  in  the  Hall  of  Mars 


Pm\^^ 


^\  nw' 


1>E\»^«^ 


NJENT 


uf 


vvilOh^ 


Xlbe  1baU  of  /iDars  "3 

tery  about  the  pencilling,  sometimes  called  softness, 
sometimes  freedom,  and  sometimes  breadth;  but 
in  reality  a  most  subtle  confusion  of  colours  and 
forms,"  in  the  same  way  that  a  mosaic  owes  much 
of  its  beauty  to  the  fact  that  no  stone  is  exactly  like 
any  other  stone,  so  that  even  the  broad  spaces  of 
plain  colour  are  in  reality  made  up  of  little  varie- 
gated dots. 

It  v^ould  be  difficult  to  point  to  a  better  portrait, 
technically  considered,  than  this  one,  painted  at  any 
period  of  the  development  of  art,  ancient  or  modern. 

Near  by.  Number  94,  is  the  Madonna  del  Im- 
pannata.  This  picture  is  of  doubtful  authenticity, 
but  has  usually  been  attributed  to  Raphael.  It  ap- 
pears to  be  one  of  Ruskin's  ""  betes  noir,"  for  he 
speaks  of  its  "  repainted  distortion  "  being  redeemed 
only  by  the  light  which  comes  in  from  the  linen 
window,  —  whence  the  picture  derives  its  name, 
"  Impannata  "  signifying  a  cloth  window. 

It  is  generally  conceded  that  the  picture  was  be- 
gun by  Raphael,  if  not  finished  by  him.  The  com- 
position shows  that  the  original  intention  was  for 
a  round  picture,  which  would  have  taken  in  the 
four  chief  figures  and  St.  Elizabeth  down  to  the 
knees,  she  occupying  the  foreground  at  the  left. 
The  Madonna  is  on  a  higher  level  than  the  other 
figures.  St.  Elizabeth  and  Mary  Magdalen  have 
brought  the  child  to  his  mother,  and  he,  turning 


114        Ube  Hrt  ot  tbc  pittt  palace 

to  look  after  them,  is  in  the  act  of  expressing  by 
an  embrace  his  joy  at  being  in  her  arms  again. 
The  expression  of  Mary's  face  is  rather  passive,  but 
still  one  can  detect  a  look  of  pleasure  at  his  evident 
preference  for  her. 

St.  John  appears  to  be  quite  an  afterthought,  — 
an  addition  to  the  general  group;  and,  perhaps 
being  the  patron  saint  of  Florence,  he  is  placed  out- 
side purposely.  This  is  particularly  likely  to  have 
been  the  plan,  since  Raphael  has  represented  him 
as  too  old  to  be  an  integral  part  of  the  scene.  Sit- 
ting apart,  and  pointing  to  the  others,  he  seems 
rather  to  be  interpreting  the  picture  than  to  be  a 
part  of  it.  The  heads  are  exquisite  in  modelling, 
the  aged  face  of  Elizabeth  and  the  fresh  fair  beauty 
of  the  Magdalen  being  in  good  contrast  each  to 
the  other.  Indeed,  the  whole  picture  must  be  purely 
symbolical,  for  it  is  as  much  an  anachronism  that 
the  Magdalen  should  be  a  grown  woman  while 
Christ  is  an  infant,  as  that  St.  John  should  at  the 
same  time  be  a  stripling.  The  picture  is  sometimes 
attributed  to  Giulio  Romano.  There  is  doubtless 
ground  for  this  theory,  for  Giulio  worked  some- 
what in  the  master's  vein  (that  is  during  his  second 
manner),  and  may  have  done  a  good  deal  of  work 
on  this  among  other  of  the  Madonnas  and  Holy 
Families.  The  picture  is  on  wood,  and  was  painted 
for  Bindo  Altoviti,  a  young  and  handsome  Floren- 


JUDITH    WITH    THE    HEAD    OF    HOLOFERNES 
By  \llori ;  in  the  Hall  of  Mars 


PEPAKTMENT  or 


Ube  Iball  ot  /iDars  us 

tine  banker,  about  15 13.  Altoviti  had  also  a  palace 
near  Raphael's  villa  on  the  bank  of  the  Tiber  in 
Rome.  •  The  picture  afterwards  came  into  possession 
of  Grand  Duke  Cosimo,  and  it  was  placed  in  his 
chapel.     In  1587  it  was  in  the  Uffizi. 

A  grand  bit  of  colour  is  Christofano  Allori's 
Judith  with  the  Head  of  Holofernes,  Number  96. 
The  figure  of  Judith  is  no  imaginary  female  con- 
queror, —  she  is  a  very  real  person,  being  the  mis- 
tress of  the  artist  himself,  and  no  doubt  Allori  shud- 
dered as  he  indulged  his  grim  humour;  for  this 
picture  represents  the  famous  Mazzafirra,  Allori's 
mistress,  and  has  a  sketch  of  her  mother  in  the  back- 
ground. The  picture  of  Judith  was  ordered  for 
Cardinal  Alexander  Orsini,  and  Allori  painted  these 
portraits  in  a  sort  of  morbid  resignation,  putting 
himself  as  a  corpse  into  the  hand  of  Judith.  The 
head  of  Holofernes  is  a  portrait  of  Christofano 
Allori.  He  knew  only  too  well  that  the  price  of  the 
painting  would  be  instantly  absorbed  by  these  rapa- 
cious women,  and  this  rather  ghastly  allegory  was 
soon  interpreted  by  those  who  knew  him  in  his 
dissipations.  Three  replicas  were  painted  at  dif- 
ferent times,  —  the  one  which  hangs  in  the  Corsini 
Palace  is  much  more  bold  in  expression,  showing 
an  ugly,  snarling  frown  on  the  face  of  Judith.  In 
the  Pitti  original  Judith's  is  not  an  essentially 
vicious  face,    A  small  copy  hangs  also  in  the  Uffizi. 


ii6        XTbe  Hrt  ot  tbe  pitti  palace 

The  colouring  of  this  picture  is  one  of  the  most 
striking  things  in  the  entire  gallery,  and  is  often 
the  first  thing  mentioned  by  visitors.  The  robe  of 
Judith  is  of  a  most  gorgeous  deep  yellow,  suggest- 
ing infinite  riches  of  texture.  The  triumphant  ex- 
pression of  the  face,  which  is  of  a  typical  Jewish 
beauty,  is  well  rendered.  There  are  touches  of  red, 
blue,  and  green  in  the  painting,  which  add  to  the 
magnificence  of  the  general  effect.  It  is  not  a 
sympathetic  subject,  but  it  is  treated  by  a  master 
in  a  masterly  manner.  The  personal  experience 
of  the  artist,  thus  interwoven  in  the  old  Bible  story, 
has  significance,  and  supplies  the  human  element 
of  interest  for  those  who  would  otherwise  regard 
it  only  as  a  disagreeable  subject.  The  long-lidded, 
cruel  eyes  of  Judith  are  comparatively  passive  in 
the  painting  in  the  Pitti;  elsewhere  he  has  drawn 
his  mistress  as  a  veritable  bad-tempered  fury.  She 
stands  well-poised,  striding  forward,  her  left  hand 
firmly  clutching  the  hair  of  the  head  which  she 
has  severed  from  the  body  of  Holof ernes;  her 
right  hand  still  holds  the  sword ;  and  the  old  woman 
behind  her  looks  at  her  with  approving  admiration. 
The  picture  was  taken  to  Paris,  where  it  remained 
from   1799  to  1815. 

While  this  picture  was  in  Paris,  it  was  examined 
by  Schlegel,  who,  in  his  "Esthetic  Essays,"  alludes 
to  it  thus :  "  The  Judith  with  the  Head  of  Holofernes 


Ube  Iball  of  ffbaxs  "7 

by  Christofano  Allori  has  much  merit  both  in  ex- 
pression and  outhne  of  the  figure.  Our  attention 
is  immediately  caught  by  the  beauty  and  splendid 
attire  of  the  Hebrew  heroine,  as  well  as  by  the 
expression  of  simple  piety  and  wonder  in  the  head 
of  the  old  woman,  and  the  external  correctness  of 
the  representation." 

The  first  worthy  example  of  Guido  Reni  which 
we  have  met  in  this  gallery  is  here  numbered  lOO. 
It  is  a  fine  composition,  in  the  best  manner  of  the 
master,  and  with  few  of  the  affectations  which  spoil 
so  many  of  his  pictures.  In  the  first  place,  it  is  a 
cheerful  subject  treated  in  a  happy  humour. 

The  Rebecca  at  the  Well  requires  a  detailed 
knowledge  of  the  story  before  the  picture  can  be 
understood;  in  some  pictures  the  treatment  and 
use  of  colours  constitute  the  chief  interest ;  in  others 
the  subject  chosen  is  as  much  a  part  of  the  com- 
position as  the  actual  planning  of  the  figures.  It 
is  much  more  interesting  when  this  is  the  case. 
Like  music,  which  is  unsatisfactory  unless  it  com- 
bine both  harmony  and  melody,  so  is  a  picture  un- 
satisfactory unless  the  subject  is  worthy  of  the  treat- 
ment given  it.  Many  fine  paintings  lack  sentiment 
because  the  subject  is  a  painful  one,  and  many  good 
compositions  in  music  fail  to  satisfy  our  longings 
because  they  have  either  melody  or  harmony  to  ex- 
cess, and  are  not  properly  balanced. 


"8        XTbe  Hrt  ot  tbe  pttti  palace 

This  picture  of  Guido's  is  taken  from  the  incident 
in  the  Ufe  of  Rebecca,  when  the  steward  of  Abra- 
ham, having  been  sent  to  the  land  of  Mesopotamia, 
arrives  in  the  city  of  Nahor.  Eliezer,  the  steward, 
had  been  sent  to  bring  back  a  wife  for  Isaac,  the 
son  of  Abraham;  and  he  trusted  that  he  should 
see  among  the  women  who  came  to  draw  water 
such  a  damsel  as  should  justify  him  in  approaching 
her  on  this  delicate  matter. 

And  before  many  minutes  had  passed,  Rebecca 
with  her  pitcher  on  her  shoulder  came  out  from 
her  dwelling,  and  at  the  same  time  came  many 
others.     Rebecca  is  described  as  fair  to  look  upon. 

The  episode  chosen  by  the  artist  is  that  where 
Rebecca  is  bringing  her  pitcher  to  Eliezer;  she  is 
the  chief  centre  of  the  picture,  and  is  handing  the 
jug  to  him.  At  the  left  is  a  little  boy,  carrying  a 
casket,  evidently  that  from  which  Eliezer  takes  gifts 
of  gold  to  offer  the  damsel ;  the  boy  is  much  inter- 
ested in  the  general  situation,  and  looks  over  his 
shoulder,  smiling  at  the  spectator  in  a  jocular  way. 
Probably  the  mission  of  the  steward  has  become  a 
jest  among  the  retainers ;  it  is  quite  a  human  touch 
to  represent  the  boy  as  sympathetic  in  this  arch  way. 
In  the  background  at  the  left  is  seen  a  man  holding 
a  camel.  Evidently  Guido  Reni  has  not  had  many 
opportunities  to  study  this  special  breed  of  beast. 
The  women  are  gathered  about  the  w^ell,  amused 


Ube  •fcall  ot  /iDars  119 

at  the  strange  way  in  which  the  visitor  has  ad- 
dressed Rebecca,  and  apparently  interested  to  see 
what  will  come  of  the  interview.  There  is  a  good 
deal  of  thought  and  portrayal  of  human  nature  in 
the  poses  of  the  women.  One  of  them,  on  the  right 
of  the  well,  is  much  entertained,  and  stands  in  a 
stage  pose,  with  one  hand  on  her  hip,  and  holding 
aside  her  draperies  so  as  to  display  her  limbs ;  per- 
haps trying  to  convince  the  steward  that  he  might 
do  better  by  coming  to  her.  The  picture  is  quite 
a  merry  one,  and  is  rendered  with  more  spirit  than 
most  of  Guido's  scenes. 

Guido  Reni  was  born  in  1575,  and  showed  early 
genius  for  art.  He  was  called  "  the  father  of  fa- 
cility," so  easily  did  he  accomplish  his  purpose. 
He  was  devoted  to  the  early  Italian  painters,  whom 
he  studied  intelligently.  As  he  said  himself,  "  It 
is  designing  that  is  difficult;  colour  is  quickly  at- 
tained." Hawthorne  considered  him  a  marvellous 
painter.  "  There  is  no  other,"  he  says,  ^^  who  seems 
to  achieve  things  so  magically  and  inscrutably  as 
he  sometimes  does."  Some  one  asked  him  which 
he  considered  his  own  greatest  picture.  He  replied : 
"  The  one  on  which  I  am  working  now.  And  if  I 
am  working  on  another  to-morrow,  it  will  be  that, 
and  the  day  after  it  will  be  the  one  I  am  doing 
then !  "  After  a  tedious  illness,  Guido  Reni  died 
on  the  eighteenth  of  April,  1642. 


I20        Zbc  Htt  ot  tbe  Ipittt  palace 

The  Assumption  of  the  Magdalen  by  Cagnacci 
is  rather  an  unattractive  picture.  The  Magdalen 
is  being  carried  up  to  heaven  by  an  angel.  Both 
of  them  look  thoroughly  uncomfortable.  The  angel 
is  flying  practically  on  his  back,  with  his  draperies 
floating  off  extended  on  either  side,  bearing  the 
whole  weight  of  his  substantial  burden  on  his  up- 
raised hands.  The  Magdalen  sits  with  clasped 
hands  and  upturned  gaze,  in  the  attitude  of  one  who 
rides  horseback  in  a  side-saddle.  She  seems  bliss- 
fully unconscious  of  the  painful  efforts  of  the  angel, 
whose  face  is  hidden,  and  who  is  not  remarkable 
for  anything  but  that  his  figure  is  correctly  fore- 
shortened. 

A  fierce  and  defiant  gentleman  is  Van  Der  Werff's 
Duke  of  Marlborough.  He  stands  grasping  a  baton ; 
he  wears  a  wig  of  flowing  curls  after  the  fashion  of 
his  times;  and,  from  the  cloak  which  he  has  laid 
aside,  and  which  rests  upon  a  tree-stump  at  his  side, 
the  Order  of  the  Garter  may  be  seen  hanging,  with 
its  pendent  figure  of  St  George. 

The  Madonna  Enthroned,  by  Soggi,  shows  Our 
Lady  with  the  child  upon  her  knee,  sitting  on  a 
high  throne.  The  child  leans  forward  to  bless  a 
warrior  saint  who  stands  at  his  right  side.  On 
the  other  side  of  the  composition  is  the  Baptist  as 
a  man  of  middle  age.  This  is  not  a  realistic  repre- 
sentation of  the  Holy  Family,  but  an  ideal  concep- 


Zhc  Iball  of  ffbaxB  121 

tion  of  the  Madonna  and  Child  enthroned ;  they  are 
supposed  to  be  perpetually  young  in  heaven. 

Titian's  portrait  of  Andrea  Vesalius,  a  celebrated 
surgeon,  hangs  here,  Number  80.  He  is  sitting 
in  an  armchair,  with  an  open  book  in  one  hand,  and 
glasses  in  the  other.  He  has  a  long  gray  beard,  and 
wears  a  sombre  garment  with  fur  about  it,  such  as 
Italian  medical  men  wore.  Vesalius  was  born  in 
1 5 14,  at  Brussels,  but  his  fame  was  acquired  in 
Bologna  and  Pisa,  where  he  became  a  great  anat- 
omist, and  taught  his  profession.  He  got  into 
trouble  in  Spain,  where  Charles  V.  called  him  to 
answer  the  charge  of  having  dissected  a  Spanish 
gentleman.  Less  liberal  than  the  authorities  of  to- 
day in  such  matters,  they  condemned  him  to  death, 
but  his  sentence  was  changed  to  banishment  for 
life  by  Philip  H.  On  his  way  back  from  Spain, 
he  was  wrecked  on  the  coast  of  the  Island  of  Zante, 
where  he  died  of  exposure.  The  picture  is  so  much 
injured  that  of  late  it  has  been  questioned  even 
whether  it  be  by  Titian  at  all.  There  are  parts 
of  it  which  bear  strong  witness  to  its  authenticity. 

There  is  also  a  charming  Holy  Family  by  Andrea 
del  Sarto,  painted  in  a  deliciously  hazy  style.  The 
figure  grouping  is  well  arranged.  There  is  nothing 
original  or  striking  about  the  accessories,  —  no  de- 
tails from  which  it  might  have  taken  its  name,  as  are 
common   in   the   Madonnas   of   Raphael.      It   was 


122        Ube  Hrt  of  tbe  pitti  palace 

painted  on  wood,  about  1529,  for  Ottavio  de  Medici, 
who  paid  double  the  price  demanded  for  it  because 
it  so  entirely  satisfied  him.  It  is  certainly  restful 
and  dreamy;  pearly  in  colour;  pleasing  in  the  se- 
lection of  types.  The  Virgin  sits  with  the  Infant 
on  her  knee,  and  St.  John  and  Elizabeth  are  present. 
In  the  days  of  Vasari,  this  Madonna  hung  in  the 
chamber  of  the  widow  of  Ottavio,  and  was  much 
admired  by  the  critic. 

Cardinal  Bentivoglio,  by  Van  Dyck,  is  a  strik- 
ing full-length  portrait,  Number  82.  He  is  seated. 
Near  him  is  a  table.  A  curtain  is  draped  behind 
him,  and  he  is  dressed  in  full  robes  of  office,  with 
lace  and  brocades.  On  the  table  are  an  opened 
letter  and  a  vase  of  flowers.  Cardinal  Bentivoglio 
was  born  in  Bologna  in  15 19.  He  became  papal 
secretary  to  Clement  VII.  when  he  was  only  seven- 
teen, and  later  was  sent  by  Paul  V.  to  Flanders 
as  nuncio.  He  was  the  author  of  a  work,  "  History 
of  the  War  in  the  Netherlands,"  and  also  wrote 
memoirs.  He  was  one  of  Galileo's  judges,  and  tried 
to  use  his  influence  in  the  astronomer's  favour,  but 
unsuccessfully.     Cardinal  Bentivoglio  died  in  1644. 

Number  83  is  a  very  living  portrait,  by  Tinto- 
retto, of  Luigi  Cornaro.  This  Venetian  nobleman 
in  his  early  days  was  dissipated.  He  reformed  his 
life  entirely  before  he  grew  old,  and  wrote  a  trea- 
tise on  sobriety.     He  became  a  prominent  and  re- 


Ube  Iball  ot  /iDats  123 

spected  citizen  before  his  death,  which  occurred  when 
he  was  ninety-six  years  old. 

The  Santa  Conversazione,  Number  84,  in  a  land- 
scape of  some  charm,  is  either  by  Bonifazio  Vero- 
nese (not  Paolo,  the  great  Venetian)  or  by  Palma 
Vecchio.     Critics  are  divided. 

This  Holy  Family  represents  the  Madonna  seated 
in  the  midst  on  the  ground,  where  she,  together  with 
the  child  Jesus,  who  is  in  her  lap,  is  silhouetted 
against  the  trunk  of  a  great  tree,  the  upper  leaves 
of  which  are  visible  at  the  top  of  the  canvas.  Little 
St.  John  runs  to  meet  them.  St.  Elizabeth,  a  charm- 
ingly portrayed  middle-aged  woman,  sits  on  the 
ground  at  the  right  of  the  picture,  holding  a  half- 
open  volume.  Mary  turns  to  speak  to  the  child 
John.  The  infant  is  being  interested  by  a  personage 
on  the  left,  —  evidently  the  portrait  of  a  doge  or 
other  Venetian  grandee,  —  who  is  giving  the  child 
a  miniature  of  the  world  in  the  shape  of  a  geograph- 
ical globe.  The  baby  puts  his  hands  on  it  in  the 
way  any  little  child  will  do  upon  a  smooth  surface 
which  is  presented  to  it.  The  face  of  this  portrait 
(probably  the  donor)  is  beautifully  painted.  It 
represents  a  man  of  forty-five,  with  hair  cut  in  the 
short,  thick  fashion  of  the  day,  and  wearing  a  rich 
mantle  of  crimson  with  a  heavy  gold  chain  about 
his  neck.  A  crown  is  placed  at  the  feet  of  the  Ma- 
donna and  Child,  while  at  the  side  of  the  donor 


12^4        XTbe  art  of  tbe  ptttt  ipalace 

stands  a  little  dog,  who  appears  to  be  regarding  the 
spectator  with  curiosity. 

Numbers  87  and  88  are  two  wooden  panels 
painted  by  Andrea  del  Sarto.  They  were  the  tops 
of  marriage-chests  recently  alluded  to,  which  were 
in  the  set  of  furniture  ordered  by  Borgherini  for 
his  son's  marriage  gift  when  he  took  Margherita 
Accajuoli  to  wife.  All  the  pieces  were  decorated 
by  the  best  artists  of  the  day,  —  Baccio  d'Angelo, 
Del  Sarto,  Pontormo,  Granacci  being  among  those 
selected.  It  fell  to  Andrea's  share  to  paint  the  lids 
of  two  linen-chests,  which  he  did  in  his  finest  man- 
ner, portraying  scenes  from  the  life  of  Joseph. 
They  were  such  choice  works  of  art  that  an  attempt 
was  made  to  carry  them  off  during  the  Siege  of 
Florence.  The  King  of  France  had  an  agent,  Giam- 
battista  della  Palla,  who  persuaded  the  government 
to  give  him  permission  to  sack  the  Borgherini  Pal- 
ace, and  take  the  entire  set  of  furniture  to  send  to 
his  patron,  Francis  I.,  in  hopes  that  this  propitiatory 
tribute  would  induce  him  to  aid  the  republic.  But 
when  the  raiders  arrived  at  the  Borgherini  Palace, 
they  had  to  encounter  Margherita,  who  firmly  re- 
fused to  allow  them  to  enter  peaceably.  "  Begone, 
vile  broker !  "  she  exclaimed ;  "  reprobate  salesman ! 
How  dare  you  fancy  that  you  can  carry  off  the 
ornaments  of  a  noble  house  ?  "     With  a  prolonged 


Ube  iball  of  /fDars  125 

tirade,  she  succeeded  in  dissuading  them  from  their 
attempt. 

The  panels  are  composed  in  a  quaint  method, 
transcribing  the  history  so  as  to  make  only  one 
picture  out  of  it,  instead  of  dividing  it  into  smaller 
panels  in  the  more  usual  way. 

The  Repose  in  Egypt,  by  Paris  Bordone,  is  a 
restful  picture,  shady  and  cool,  with  the  spell  of  the 
Venetian  lagoons  in  the  air  rather  than  the  Egyp- 
tian atmosphere. 

In  this  picture  of  Paris  Bordone,  Mary,  Joseph, 
and  the  Child  are  gathered  at  the  foot  of  a  tree. 
Jesus  is  holding  out  a  little  wild  flower  to  his 
mother  and  Joseph  is  extending  his  hand  upward  to 
the  tree,  while  angels  are  casting  down  fruit  to  him. 
Ruskin's  remark  that  some  artists  do  not  know  the 
difference  between  angels  and  cupids  might  apply 
to  these  little  creatures,  who  play  among  the. 
branches  in  a  state  of  nudity.  The  preparations 
are  going  forward  for  refreshments.  A  woman  at 
the  left  is  unpacking  a  hamper  of  provisions.  The 
light  scarf  about  the  shoulders  of  the  figure  is  par- 
ticularly delicate.  The  face  of  the  Child  is  very 
human  and  very  young,  which  cannot  be  said  of 
some  of  the  Holy  Infants  painted  in  the  Renaissance. 
The  landscape  background  is  varied.  At  the  feet 
of  St.  Joseph  is  a  flagon  of  wine,  and  a  dish  upon 
a  white  cloth,  laid  ready  to  receive  the  fruit. 


126 


Xlbe  Hrt  of  tbe  iPittt  palace 


There  are  two  pictures  in  this  room  representing 
St.  Peter  in  tears,  one  by  Guido  Reni  and  one  by 
Carlo  Dolci.  Both  of  these  artists  have  developed 
the  "  lachrymose  manner  "  to  its  full  extent.  It 
is  difficult  to  say  which  of  these  paintings  one  would 
rather  be  obliged  to  live  with.  St.  Peter  is  sitting 
before  a  grotto  weeping,  with  his  hands  clasped, 
and  his  eyes,  like  nearly  all  of  Dolci's  saints,  cast 
up  to  heaven.  The  cock  is  crowing  upon  a  rock 
near  by.     The  picture  was  executed  in  1654. 

Here,  too,  is  the  Sacrifice  of  Abraham  by  Chris- 
tofano  Allori.  Abraham  holds  aloft  the  scimitar 
with  which  he  is  preparing  to  smite  Isaac,  who 
stands  meekly,  with  bowed  head,  awaiting  the 
stroke.  The  angel  reaches  out  of  the  cloud  above, 
a  bit  too  realistically,  for  he  has  grasped  Abraham 
firmly  by  the  arm,  and  stays  the  sacrifice.  With 
his  right  hand  the  angel  expostulates  in  the  accepted 
attitude  of  "  argument."  The  head  of  the  ram  is 
seen  in  the  bush  at  the  right,  close  to  the  pyre. 
In  the  background  is  the  ass  laden  with  panniers, 
which  has  accompanied  them.  The  whole  composi- 
tion seems  to  be  condensed  into  too  small  a  space, 
—  possibly  the  canvas  was  originally  larger,  and 
has  been  trimmed  down  by  degrees  to  its  present 
proportions. 

There  is  an  Annunciation  by  Andrea  del  Sarto, 
Number  97,  inferior  in  power  to  other  treatments 


I 


Ube  t)all  ot  /iDars  127 

by  him  of  the  same  subject  to  be  seen  later.  It 
has  good  colour,  but  is  not  strong  in  composition, 
in  which  it  differs  from  either  of  the  others.  The 
angel  has  arrived,  and  sinks  upon  one  knee.  Mary 
starts  back  from  the  prie-dieu  at  which  she  has 
been  at  her  devotions.  A  trifle  back  of  these  two 
figures  stands  St.  Michael  holding  the  scales.  As 
it  was  painted  for  the  Convent  of  San  Gallo,  the 
figure  of  a  monk  is  introduced  by  courtesy.  This 
is  supposed  to  be  a  portrait  of  Filippo  Benizzi,  one 
of  the  founders  of  the  order  of  the  Servites.  The 
angel  wears  fringed  ecclesiastical  vestments. 

Cigoli's  Magdalen  is  not  important  when  seen 
in  company  with  his  great  Ecce  Homo.  It  is  num- 
bered 98.  The  saint  is  sitting  at  the  foot  of  a  tree. 
Her  eyes  are  upturned  in  the  inevitable  manner  of 
Magdalens;  a  crucifix  and  a  vase  of  ointment  are 
the  chief  accessories.  She  holds  a  book  in  her 
hands.  The  figure  is  nude.  The  tears  are  coursing 
down  her  cheeks,  but  for  some  reason  she  does  not 
greatly  move  the  beholder  to  sympathy.  The  pro- 
file view  of  her  nude  figure  is  good.  The  crucifix 
hangs  on  the  rocky  wall,  and  on  a  projection  near 
her  hand  is  poised  a  human  skull. 

Guercino's  St.  Sebastian  is  a  graceful  youth,  none 
the  worse  for  wear,  who  kneels  in  a  charming  atti- 
tude, offering  two  votive  arrows  to  Heaven. 

Aurelio  Luini,  the  painter  of  the  picture  num- 


128        ube  Htt  of  tbe  ptttt  palace 

bered  102,  was  an  artist  of  the  Lombard  school, 
born  on  Lake  Como  in  1530.  His  picture  of  the 
Magdalen  is  painted  on  wood.  It  is  probably  a 
portrait  of  one  of  his  friends,  for  she  appears  in 
modern  clothes,  with  her  hair  much  dressed,  and 
wears  precious  stones  and  a  gold  necklace.  This 
version  of  the  saint  is  a  departure  from  tradition; 
if  it  was  painted  originally  for  a  Magdalen,  it  leads 
one  to  fear  that  the  artist  preferred  to  represent  ha' 
before  her  conversion!  She  holds  the  usual  vase 
of  perfumes,  but  lovingly,  as  if  it  were  bric-a-brac, 
while  she  flashes  an  arch  look  at  the  spectator. 

The  only  picture  by  Luca  Giordano  in  the  Pitti 
is  Number  104,  the  Immaculate  Conception.  The 
Virgin  is  standing  on  the  new  moon,  above  the 
terrestrial  globe,  upon  which  is  seen  the  serpent 
writhing  beneath  her  feet.  She  is  crowned  with 
stars. 

A  most  exquisite  bit  of  fresco,  taken  from  the 
wall  and  framed  as  a  picture,  is  the  "  Sleeping 
Love  "  of  Volterrano.  The  treatment  is  as  soft  and 
broad  as  in  a  modern  picture  of  the  French  school. 
The  charming  child  is  sleeping  with  his  head  rest- 
ing on  his  arm.  The  attitude  is  casual,  and  yet 
restful.  The  expression  on  the  face  is  that  of  di- 
vine innocence,  and  yet  one  would  not  be  surprised 
if,  when  the  eyes  opened,  there  were  a  depth  of 
worldly  wisdom  hidden  there. 


Ube  Iball  ot  /IDars  129 

Another  picture  by  Volterrano  is  called  Venal 
Love,  Number  105.  It  is  an  unpleasant  subject, 
though  a  technical  success.  It  represents  Venus, 
or  her  prototype,  leering,  while  she  takes  an  arrow 
and  blunts  the  end  of  it  by  biting  it  with  her  teeth. 
The  figure  is  seen  about  to  the  waist.  At  her  side 
stands  an  evil-looking  little  Cupid,  who  might  more 
properly  be  denominated  Cupidity,  who  is  pouring 
into  the  other  hand  of  Venus  money  and  trinkets 
from  a  casket  which  he  carries. 

In  the  school  of  Sustermans,  but  not  by  the  cele- 
brated portrait  artist  himself,  is  a  head  of  Galileo, 
Number  io6.  The  astronomer  looks  sad  and 
weary ;  a  heavy  expression  is  on  his  brow  and  about 
his  eyes,  almost  amounting  to  a  scowl.  He  has  a 
beard  and  moustache.  His  doublet  is  buttoned  up 
closely  in  the  middle. 


CHAPTER    VI. 

THE    HALL   OF   JUPITER 

In  the  Hall  of  Jupiter,  Veronese,  the  third  of  the 
great  Venetian  masters,  is  revealed  to  us.  It  is 
unfortunate  that  in  the  Pitti  Palace,  complete  as 
is  the  collection  in  many  types  of  pictures,  we  have 
no  example  of  the  truly  characteristic  work  of  Vero- 
nese; namely,  the  pageant.  He  excelled  in  large 
canvases  filled  with  gorgeous  men  and  women, 
dressed  out  in  silks,  satins,  and  brocades  and  ar- 
mour, bearing  banners,  fruit,  jewels,  and  all  the 
scenic  properties  of  a  great  painter  of  high  life  in 
the  richest  and  most  voluptuous  centre  of  costly 
living,  —  Venice  in  the  Renaissance. 

In  some  of  his  work,  particularly  in  representing 
men,  he  resembles  Rubens ;  he  portrays  animal  force 
in  brawny  and  lusty  bodies;  his  women  have  often 
too  little  of  the  intellectual  element  in  their  beauty, 
and  are  simply  pleasing  pieces  of  anatomy  to  ex- 
hibit the  fair  garments  with  which  this  skilful 
painter  loved  to  clothe  them.     All  the  people  are 

130 


i-n* 


^be  Iball  of  Jupiter  131 

large,  with  monumental  decorative  proportions ;  but 
it  is  the  spectacular  rather  than  the  thoughtful  or 
poetic  in  which  he  indulges.  He  was  exactly  the 
sort  of  painter  to  please  a  nation  of  rich  merchants. 
His  religious  pictures  are  usually  set  in  essentially 
Venetian  scenes;  he  is  more  at  home  when  he  has 
to  show  forth  a  group  of  worldly  women  tricked 
out  in  their  best  finery  than  he  is  when  trying  to 
interpret  Scriptural  stories.  He  showed  good  judg- 
ment in  seldom  choosing  tragic  or  emotional  scenes, 
for  he  had  not  the  necessary  quality  in  his  art  to 
do  justice  to  them.  There  is  a  love  of  display,  and 
withal,  an  air  of  stately  good  society  about  his  work. 
The  great  culmination  of  his  power  is  in  his  picture 
of  the  Marriage  of  Cana  at  the  Louvre;  just  as 
the  focus  of  Titian's  genius  is  in  the  Assumption 
in  Venice,  and  that  of  Tintoret  in  the  Paradise 
and  the  Crucifixion  in  that  same  doubly  dowered 
city. 

Although  Veronese  seldom  chose  the  greatest  and 
most  inspiring  subjects,  it  may  also  be  said  of  him 
that  he  never  chose  an  unworthy  subject.  His 
habitual  preference  was  for  graceful,  playful,  and 
almost  trivial  effects  treated  seriously,  with  noble, 
graphic  art,  and  always  with  high  moral  intent. 
He  was  never  vulgar.  Of  the  three  great  Venetians 
with  whom  we  are  here  principally  concerned,  he 
stands   as   the  apostle  of  light  and   gaiety. 


132        Ube  Hrt  of  tbe  ptttt  palace 

The  picture  representing  the  Three  Maries  at  the 
Sepulchre  on  Easter  morning  comes  first  to  our 
notice,  Number  134.  The  rock-hewn  tomb  is  at 
the  left  and  is  cut  into  a  hillside,  above  which  are 
trees  and  shrubs  growing.  At  the  door  are  the  two 
angels  examining  the  linen  clothes,  etc.  One  of  them 
is  crouching  at  the  door  of  the  sepulchre,  and  the 
other,  standing  erect,  raises  the  forefinger  of  his 
right  hand,  pointing  to  heaven,  in  the  act  of  telling 
the  three  women  that  the  Saviour  is  not  here  but 
has  risen.  The  nimbus  of  light  about  their  heads 
is  not  painted  in  the  conventional  manner  of  the 
earlier  masters,  but  is  rather  a  mist  of  fire.  Vene- 
tians generally  so  painted  their  halos.  Raphael  has 
done  the  same  in  his  Liberation  of  St.  Peter  in  the 
Vatican. 

The  three  figures  of  the  Maries  are  in  varying 
attitudes,  all  expressing  surprise.  The  one  more 
in  the  foreground  than  the  others  is  clothed  in  those 
shades  of  gold  and  rose  colour  which  occur  in  Vene- 
tian glass.  Veronese  could  not  resist  an  opportunity 
to  render  a  luminous  silken  material;  and  her  head 
is  turned  quite  away,  so  that  only  her  figure  is  seen. 
She  carries  a  basket  in  one  hand,  and  the  other  is 
placed  upon  the  shoulder  of  the  next  woman.  This 
companion  is  clad  in  shades  of  orange,  red,  and 
green,  mingled  in  true  Venetian  spirit  with  rich 
effect.     She  wears  a  charming  head-dress,  a  veil 


Ube  Iball  ot  5upitet  133 

being  wound  about  her  head  to  emphasize  the  shape 
of  her  coiffure.  The  third  Mary  is  only  seen  in  part, 
being  behind  the  other  two;  she  is  gathering  the 
folds  of  her  green  mantle  around  her,  and  is  gazing 
earnestly  at  the  angel. 

The  other  picture  by  Veronese,  which  would  seem 
to  be  complementary  to  the  Three  Maries,  is  that 
which  represents  Jesus  taking  leave  of  his  mother. 
Christ  stands  at  the  right  of  the  picture,  in  profile. 
The  figure  is  not  satisfactory,  and  is  the  work  of 
a  man  who  felt  the  value  of  painting  rather  in  ex- 
ecution than  in  expression.  It  is  not  essentially 
the  figure  of  the  Saviour  at  all,  —  it  might  be  any 
well-draped  courtly  personage.  The  raised  right 
hand,  with  the  fingers  spread  symmetrically  apart, 
is  displeasing,  especially  as  it  is  drawn  against  a 
background  of  lattice,  which  makes  this  part  of 
the  composition  confused.  But  the  arrangement  of 
drapery,  when  studied  independently  from  the  sub- 
ject, is  extremely  lovely.  The  large,  broad  folds 
hang  with  exquisite  grace. 

The  Mother  Mary  sits  at  the  foot  of  a  fligfht  of 
steps;  her  head  is  draped  by  a  white  veil,  and  her 
garments  also  clothe  her  with  clinging  folds;  but 
the  figure  lacks  power.  The  depth  of  feeling  which 
one  would  look  for  in  such  a  scene  is  entirely  lack- 
ing. Three  other  women,  probably  saints,  occupy 
the  position  behind  the  Madonna  and  at  her  left 


134        Ube  Hrt  ot  tbe  pitti  palace 

side.  The  one  of  whom  only  the  head  can  be  seen 
is  very  pleasing.  Her  hair  and  head-dress  are  most 
artistic.  The  other  woman  holds  her  hands  upon 
her  heart,  and  looks  at  Jesus  with  much  reverence. 
There  is  some  grace  in  the  attitude,  but  it  is  not 
artistic.  Above,  at  the  top  of  the  flight  of  stairs, 
stands  another  woman  much  in  the  shadow,  lean- 
ing against  a  pillar ;  she  and  her  draperies  are  finely 
disposed,  although  a  subordinate  part  of  the  com- 
position. The  tones  of  the  colours  are  soft  and 
lucent.     Veronese  is  always  master  of  tints. 

Veronese  understood  how  to  paint  with  as  bold 
an  impression  as  a  scene-painter,  and  yet  with 
such  effect  of  life  as  finished  work  seldom  produces. 
A  few  touches  of  his  can  paint  a  dog  or  a  still- 
life  subject  so  that  the  actual  thing  portrayed  seems 
to  be  present  in  a  defined  shape.  But  while,  as 
Ruskin  points  out,  it  appears  as  if  a  few  careless 
strokes  of  the  brush  have  caused  this  result,  the 
real  fact  is  that  these  apparently  heedless  strokes  are 
the  refinement  of  artistic  intention,  made  possible 
by  the  knowledge  bred  of  long  experience,  that 
knowledge  which  guided  the  brush  unerringly. 
"All  great  art  is  delicate  art;  and  all  coarse  art 
is  bad  art  "  (Ruskin). 

Number  140  is  the  famous  Monaca,  or  Nun,  of 
Leonardo.  This  portrait  is  the  only  work  in  the 
Pitti  Palace,  besides  the  Goldsmith,  that  has  usually 


Tlbc  Iball  ot  Jupiter  13s 

been  attributed  to  Leonardo'.  Some  critics  con- 
sider it  of  the  school  of  Piero'  di  Cosimo.  It  is 
painted  on  wood,  and  is  exquisite  in  its  finish. 
Taine  is  most  enthusiastic  about  the  picture.  He 
says :  "  This  is  not  an  abstract  being,  emanating 
from  the  painter's  brain,  but  an  actual  woman  who 
has  lived,  a  sister  of  Monna  Lisa  in  the  Louvre,  as 
full  of  inward  contrasts  and  as  inexpHcable.  Is 
she  a  nun,  a  priestess,  or  a  courtesan  ?  "  This  being, 
who  appears  so  piquant  to  the  traveller,  is  shown 
in  three-quarters  view,  in  a  very  low  corsage  of 
black,  with  reHefs  of  white  in  deHcate  veihng.  The 
transparent  effects  are  beautifully  rendered.  She 
holds  a  small  book  in  her  hand,  on  which  may  be 
descried  the  name  of  Christ;  the  background  rep- 
resents a  monastery ;  in  fact,  it  is  said  to  be  a  view 
of  the  ancient  Hospital  of  St.  Paul,  which  stood 
originally  in  the  place  of  Santa  Maria  Novella.  An 
arch  of  the  arcade  is  directly  behind  the  head  of 
this  mysterious  nun,  showing  that  she  is  supposed 
to  be  walking  in  the  cloister. 

The  picture  has  been  ascribed  in  turn  to  Franci- 
abigio,  Ghirlandajo,  and  Perugino.  The  costume 
is  certainly  a  little  unusual  for  one  in  cloister  life, 
hence  all  these  speculations.  In  reality  the  face 
has  not  very  much  that  is  complex,  being  a  serious, 
calm  countenance,  which,  if  draped  in  the  regula- 
tion nun's  habit,  would  hardly  excite  remark.    The 


13^        Ube  Hrt  of  tbc  IPittt  palace 

painting  of  the  hands  is  fine.  The  Grand  Duke 
Ferdinand  III.  bought  it  from  Marquis  RicolHni. 
There  is  some  internal  evidence  that  this  picture 
is  not  by  Leonardo.  In  the  first  place,  the  farther 
eye  is  in  bad  drawing,  —  a  fact  almost  irreconci- 
lable with  the  absolute  technical  skill  of  Leonardo. 
The  beauty  of  his  faces  is  not  always  of  the  con- 
vincing and  obvious  type;  it  is  a  subtle  charm  of 
the  soul  shining  through  the  expression,  which  gives 
them  their  virility.  But  they  are  always  faultlessly 
drawn.  Anatomically  Leonardo  has  never  failed 
us.  He  was  said  to  have  been  the  most  thoughtful 
painter  except  Albert  Durer,  and  he  had  a  thor- 
oughly creative  mind. 

The  striking  picture  in  low  tones  of  brown,  called 
The  Fates,  has  been  attributed  to  Michelangelo, 
but  much  doubt  is  thrown  upon  its  authenticity.  It 
is  more  probably  by  Rosso  Fiorentino,  from  a  design 
by  the  master.  The  three  elderly  crones,  Clotho, 
Lachesis,  and  Atropos,  stand  in  a  monumental 
group.  Clotho  carries  the  spindle  in  the  back- 
ground; Lachesis,  in  the  centre,  has  twisted  a 
thread,  which  she  holds  taut  in  her  right  hand, 
emblematical  of  the  thread  of  life,  while  Atropos, 
with  her  shears,  is  holding  the  blades  ready  to  cut 
the  thread  at  a  signal  from  Lachesis,  upon  whose 
face  she  has  fixed  her  eyes. 

The  Greek  ideal  of  the  Fates  was  usually  three 


Ube  Iball  of  Jupttcr  137 

lovely  young  girls,  —  goddesses ;  but  Michelangelo 
had  seen  that  side  of  life  which  led  him  to  draw 
them  as  witches.  The  model  who  sat  for  the  pic- 
ture (for  it  is  a  repeat  of  the  same  head  in  three 
varying  positions)  was  an  old  woman  who  used 
to  visit  Michelangelo  constantly  at  the  time  of  the 
siege  of  Florence,  to  offer  the  services  of  her  son 
as  a  warrior.  There  are  in  the  Uffizi,  in  the  De- 
partment of  Drawings,  two  studies  for  their  heads. 

This  picture  is  hardly  robust  enough  tO'  be  en- 
tirely the  work  of  Michelangelo ;  his  types  are  usu- 
ally more  exaggerated.  But  it  is  a  powerful  pic- 
ture, and  even  if  it  is  by  Rosso  Fiorentino,  it  merits 
the  words  of  Kugler  as  applied  to  it,  —  "  Severe, 
keen,  and  characteristic."  In  this  picture  there  is 
none  of  the  "  terribilita  "  for  which  the  master  is 
famous ;  but  there  is  a  certain  grimness  and  a  noble 
grotesque,  which,  as  Ruskin  says,  occurs  in  all  truly 
great  originators,  —  in  Dante,  Michelangelo,  and 
Tintoret.  In  some  of  these  the  appreciation  of  the 
grotesque  "  rules  the  entire  conception  ...  to  such 
a  degree  that  they  are  an  enigma  and  an  offence 
.  .  .  to  all  the  petty  disciples  of  formal  criticism." 

Lotto's  Three  Ages  of  Man  may  be  compared 
with  Giorgione's  Concert,  which  we  will  see  in  the 
Hall  of  the  Iliad.  As  a  composition,  it  is  really 
more  conscientiously  painted,  all  the  persons  re- 
ceiving equal  attention,  and  the  interest  being  only 


138        Ubc  Hrt  ot  tbe  pttti  palace 

slightly  diverted  to  the  central  figure.  The  child  is 
such  an  exquisite  bit  of  work  that  the  first  glance 
is  instinctively  drawn  to  him ;  but  as  one  looks  from 
right  and  left,  one  finds  that  all  the  heads  really 
deserve  study.  The  two  others  are  not  merely  a 
setting  for  the  central  one,  as  in  the  Concert. 
Morelli  ascribes  this  picture  to  Giorgione,  and  it 
is  certainly  quite  worthy  of  the  great  Venetian. 
At  any  rate,  if  he  did  not  paint  it,  he  was  the  in- 
spiration of  the  man  who  did. 

The  child,  —  the  first  Age  of  Man,  —  seen  in 
three-quarter  face,  and  dressed  in  brown  and  red, 
is  a  typical  Italian  boy  of  the  rich  blond  colouring 
of  the  Lagoons.  The  straying  locks  of  his  hair, 
through  which  the  light  falls  with  such  inimitable 
charm,  suggest  the  carelessness  of  early  youth  as 
to  the  conventional  arrangement  of  personal  ap- 
pearance, as  does  also  the  cap  which  is  slouched  on 
hurriedly.  He  holds  and  studies  a  sheet  of  music, 
—  the  mystery  and  the  joy  of  this  subtle  art  claim- 
ing more  of  his  thought  than  dress.  His  gaze  at 
the  music  is  not  that  of  comprehension,  but  of  ex- 
amination; the  scroll  of  life  is  unrolling  before 
him  by  degrees. 

The  figure  of  a  young  man  at  the  right  of  the 
picture  is  seen  in  profile,  looking  also  at  the  sheet 
of  music  in  the  boy's  hand,  but  with  finger  raised 
in  the  act  of  interpreting  to  the  younger  one  some 


DEl'AKTMENT  OF 


Ube  Iball  of  5upttet  139 

of  the  O'bsaire  passages.  The  face  of  this  man  is 
among  the  most  satisfactory  things  in  art.  His 
expression,  while  earnest,  is  hopeful,  buoyant,  and 
healthy;  the  picture  is  full  of  optimism  up  to  this 
point.  The  green  tunic,  with  its  chaste  and  well- 
disposed  trimming,  betokens  the  dawn  of  self-con- 
sciousness. No  scheme  of  colour  could  have  been 
chosen  better  to  display  his  mature  beauty. 

The  old  man  on  the  left  looks  over  his  shoulder, 
possibly  symbolizing  retrospect.  The  delightful 
colour-scheme  of  the  picture  is  completed  by  his 
red  robe.  His  face,  while  bearing  the  marks  of 
age  and  experience,  is  not  unamiable  or  cruel;  the 
large  ear  usually  said  to  denote  a  generous  tempera- 
ment is  much  in  evidence.  Altogether  the  compo- 
sition is  full  of  thought  and  thoroughly  sympathetic. 
The  heads  are  probably  all  portraits.  They  are  such 
people  as  we  might  see  on  the  street  any  day,  and 
fail  to  observe  until  they  are  thus  brought  together ; 
then  these  frankly  characteristic  types  take  on  a 
new  significance,  — 

"...  We're  made  so  that  we  love 
First,  when  we  see  them  painted,  things  we  have  passed 
Perhaps  a  hundred  times  nor  cared  to  see ; 
So  they  are  better  painted :  .  .  . 

Art  was  given  for  that ; 
God  uses  us  to  help  each  other  so 
Lending  our  minds  out.  ..." 

—  Browning. 


I40        Ube  Hrt  ot  tbe  ptttt  palace 

Portraits  and  battles  abound  in  this  hall.  There 
is  an  enormous  warlike,  smoke-laden  battle  by 
Jacques  Courtois,  the  general  hurly-burly  of  which 
is  punctuated  by  little  scintillating  eyes.  Rarely 
is  seen  a  painting  of  an  enraged  crowd  made  so 
convincing  as  by  these  small  flashing  eyes  of  the 
combatants.  Courtois  was  called  II  Bourgognone, 
and  was  a  painter  of  the  Roman  school,  living  from 
1 62 1  to  1675.  The  warriors  and  horses  are  in 
armour,  while  a  central  figure  represents  a  soldier 
discharging  his  firearms  at  an  enemy  who  is  already 
prostrate  on  the  ground.  A  fortified  city  is  seen 
in  the  background,  with  mountains  beyond. 

There  are  two  large  war  scenes  by  Salvator  Rosa. 
In  one  of  these,  Number  133,  two  detachments  of 
cavalry  are  attacking  one  another;  on  the  right 
are  Turks  wearing  turbans;  on  the  left  is  a  cava- 
lier who  has  been  thrown,  and  who  is  supposed  to 
be  a  likeness  of  the  painter.  He  holds  a  shield  bear- 
ing the  inscription  S  A  R  O,  the  first  syllables  of 
Salvator's  name.  In  the  centre  of  this  picture  is 
a  foot-soldier  charging  upon  the  cavaliers.  This 
picture  was  the  first  painted  by  Salvator  Rosa  in 
Florence. 

Another  great  battle-piece  represents  the  Battle 
of  Montemurlo,  by  Giovanni  Battista  Franco,  an 
inconspicuous  Venetian  painter,  born  in  1536  and 
dying  in  1561,  a  young  man  of  some  promise,  and 


Ube  t)all  ot  5uptter  141 

loyal  to  his  sovereign,  Cosimo'  I.  Vasari  describes 
this  battle-piece  in  his  Life  of  Battista  Franco : 
"  The  affair  of  Montemurlo,  in  which  all  exiles  and 
rebels  to  the  duke  were  routed  and  taken  prisoners, 
having  then  ensued,  Battista  painted  a  story  of  the 
battle  which  had  been  fought,  and  mingled  with 
the  facts  certain  poetic  fancies  of  his  own,  which 
displayed  good  invention.  The  work  was  much 
extolled.  ...  In  the  distance  was  the  battle,  but 
in  the  foreground  were  the  huntsmen  of  Ganymede, 
standing,  with  their  eyes  turned  upward  toward 
the  bird  of  Jove,  who  is  carrying  the  youth  away 
to  the  skies;  this  part  Battista  borrowed  from 
Michelangelo,  and  had  used  it  in  his  picture  to 
signify  that  the  duke,  while  still  young,  had  been 
taken  from  his  friends  by  the  will  of  God,  and  so 
borne  up  into  heaven.  ...  It  was  painted  by  him 
w^ith  extraordinary  care,  and  is  now  ...  in  the 
upper  rooms  of  the  Pitti,  which  his  most  illustrious 
Excellency  has  caused  to  be  entirely  finished."  Per- 
sons who  are  interested  in  these  battle-scenes  should 
not  fail  to  read  the  masterly  description  of  Leonardo 
da  Vinci,  in  his  "  Treatise  on  Painting,"  entitled 
"  How  to  Compose  a  Battle."  It  is  one  of  the  most 
graphic  bits  of  writing  on  this  subject. 

In  Number  135  another  scene  of  carnage  displays 
the  signature  of  the  artist  on  the  cornice  of  a  tem- 
ple, —  Salvator  Rosa.     Rosa  is  better  represented, 


142         XEbe  Hrt  ot  tbe  iptttt  t>alace 

however,  by  his  most  famous  picture,  the  Conspiracy 
of  CatiHne.  It  hangs  over  the  door  of  this  salon, 
and  is  the  next  picture  to  be  considered. 

The  masterpiece  of  Salvator  Rosa  represents  an 
episode  in  the  conspiracy  of  CatiHne.  A  replica  of 
this  picture  was  executed  for  the  Martelli  family 
in  Paris,  and  it  is  one  of  the  most  famous  of  Rosa's 
historical  paintings.  Some  claim  that  the  Paris 
copy  is  the  original.  The  figures  were  drawn  from 
the  demonstrative  Neapolitans  of  his  own  day, 
dressed  in  ancient  Roman  costume. 

The  scene  is  in  the  Palace  of  Catiline.  The  light, 
falling  from  above,  is  so  reflected  from  the  marble 
walls  that  it  illuminates  the  heads  and  figures  in 
the  centre  and  foreground.  An  effective  shadow 
falls  upon  the  rest  of  the  picture.  In  the  centre 
an  antique  tripod  serves  as  an  altar,  which  is  about 
to  be  used  for  the  celebration  of  a  ghastly  ceremony. 
Salvator  Rosa  depicts  that  fearful  moment  when 
Catiline,  having  employed  all  his  marvellous  elo- 
quence to  detail  the  nature  of  his  perilous  enter- 
prise, has  induced  the  conspirators  to  bind  them- 
selves to  secrecy  and  to  the  terrible  cause  by  taking 
a  solemn  oath,  ratified  by  pledging  each  other  in 
wine  mingled  with  human  blood.  This  ceremony 
is  now  in  process.  Two  men  in  the  dress  of  the 
Roman  nobility  stand  in  the  foreground,  clasping 
hands  above  the  altar.    The  one  on  the  left,  a  weak, 


0) 

►J    — ^ 

^  3 


PQ 


UN1V[RSITY  OP  rjLtiy 


nPPAKTMENT  Of 


U\)C  Iball  ot  Jupiter  143 

evil-looking  dupe,  is  holding  a  cup  to  receive  the 
blood  which  flows  from  his  raised  arm.  He  was 
probably  chosen  for  this  hideous  sacrifice,  to  supply 
the  blood  for  the  conspirators  to  drink,  because  of 
his  brutal,  uncertain  nature,  in  hopes  that  this  con- 
spicuous part  in  the  ceremony  might  so  impress  his 
imagination  that  he  would  be  given  additional 
strength  to  maintain  secrecy  and  good  faith.  This 
figure  is  intended  for  Quintius  Curtius,  and  the 
drawing  of  every  lineament  follows  the  description 
of  Sallust.  Treachery  may  be  seen  in  the  mean 
and  undecided  lines  of  his  countenance. 

Catiline  himself  is  quite  in  the  background,  urg- 
ing these  men  to  their  duty  with  uplifted  arm.  The 
conspirator  who  clasps  the  hand  of  Curtius  is  better 
looking  than  the  traitor,  but  his  beauty  is  of  a  brutal, 
fiery  order.  One  would  expect  neither  justice  nor 
mercy  at  his  hands.  Neither  of  these  men  appears 
to  be  in  any  way  reliable,  as  men  willing  to  bind 
themselves  by  such  an  oath  could  hardly  be,  and 
Catiline  still  feels  the  necessity  for  stimulating  their 
courage  with  his  eloquence. 

In  the  background  at  the  left  are  two  of  the  old 
guard  of  Sylla,  in  full  armour,  —  fighters  wearied 
with  peace,  and  ready  for  action  at  any  price.  They 
are  regarding  Curtius  and  his  opposite  with  ad- 
miration and  wonder.  Some  of  the  patrician  con- 
spirators are  seen  on  the  right.    One  of  them,  how- 


144        Ube  Hrt  ot  tbc  pitti  palace 

ever,  seems  to  turn  with  horror  from  the  atrocious 
sight,  and  to  loathe  the  idea  of  seaHng  an  oath  with 
a  Hbation  of  human  blood ;  and  yet  he  was  planning 
a  still  more  disastrous  conspiracy  of  his  own,  for 
it  is  the  face  of  Julius  Caesar,  even  at  that  time 
envying  Catiline,  and  longing  to  trample  all  other 
powers  in  subjection. 

Burckhardt  calls  them  "  a  choice  company  of  evil- 
natured,  vulgar,  aristocratically  attired  vagabonds," 
which  is  doubtless  what  such  a  company,  meeting 
on  such  an  errand,  might  be  expected  to  look  like. 
Ruskin  considers  this  a  very  characteristic  picture 
of  Salvator.  In  alluding  to  another  head  painted 
by  him,  he  says :  "  It  is  as  elevated  a  type  as  he  ever 
reaches,  and  assuredly  debased  enough;  a  sufficient 
image  of  the  mind  of  the  painter  of  Catiline." 

Salvator  Rosa  was  born  in  Naples  in  1615.  He 
was  a  scholar  of  Spagnoletto,  and  adopted  the  style 
of  Caravaggio,  so  that  we  may  almost  consider  him 
as  his  son.  He  is  always  rather  savage  in  his  se- 
lection of  subjects,  for  he  was  an  impulsive  Neapoli- 
tan, although  he  left  Naples  for  Rome  when  he 
was  only  twenty  years  of  age,  and  spent  his  life 
in  the  Imperial  City.  While  he  was  a  youth  in  Na- 
ples, he  joined  the  band  known  as  "  Compagnie 
della  Morte,"  at  the  time  of  the  popular  tumult 
under  Massaniello;  but  at  Massaniello's  tragic 
death,  Rosa  lost  heart  and  fled  to  Rome. 


Ube  Iball  ot  Jupiter  us 

That  Rosa  was  an  original  and  positive  person  is 
certain.  He  wrote  poetry,  and  his  house  was  the 
resort  of  wits,  artists,  and  Hterary  men,  as  well  as 
ecclesiastical  grandees.  He  probably  owes  much  of 
his  bad  reputation  to  the  fact  that  he  took  certain 
liberties  with  these  last  mentioned  guests.  In  a  pic- 
ture of  "  Fortuna  "  could  be  seen,  among  the  swine 
who  were  treading  pearls  under  their  feet,  the  nose 
of  one  Church  dignitary,  and  the  eye  of  another; 
people  pretending  to  penetration  detected  a  cardinal 
masquerading  as  an  ass,  scattering  with  his  hoof 
the  laurel  with  which  his  path  was  strewn ;  another 
great  personage  was  recognized  in  an  old  goat  ly- 
ing on  a  bed  of  roses.  So  the  scandal  spread,  and 
Salvator  Rosa  was  accused  of  sedition,  privy  con- 
spiracy, and  rebelHon,  and  his  friends  made  him 
draw  up  a  formal  denial  of  all  evil  intent  in  his 
picture  before  his  life  was  really  considered  safe! 

Perhaps  he  was  rather  scornful  of  the  reigning 
authority  in  some  other  matters,  too;  for  they  tell 
a  story  of  a  certain  picture  painted  by  a  surgeon, 
very  well  done,  but  rejected  by  the  Academy,  as 
the  Academicians  did  not  wish  to  recognize  a  doctor 
in  their  midst.  Rosa  took  the  picture  and  exhibited 
it  among  his  own  things,  without  any  announce- 
ment as  to  its  authorship.  Artists  came  in  crowds, 
and  praised  the  picture.  When  they  had  admired 
it  to  his  satisfaction,   Salvator  announced  that  it 


146         Ube  art  ot  tbe  pittt  palace 

was  the  work  of  the  surgeon.  "  But,"  he  added,  "  I 
think  the  Academicians  have  acted  unwisely;  for, 
if  he  were  only  a  member  of  the  Academy,  they 
would  have  the  advantages  of  his  services  in  set- 
ting some  of  the  broken  and  deformed  limbs  that 
occur  in  the  exhibitions." 

The  Nativity  is  pleasingly  but  not  convincingly 
rendered  by  Lelio  Orsi,  a  painter  of  the  Lombard 
school,  born  in  Reggio  in  151 1,  and  painting  until 
1586.  The  Virgin  is  kneeling,  in  profile,  bending 
toward  the  child,  who  lies  on  a  linen  cloth  on  the 
ground.  The  attitude  is  suggestive  of  Correggio's 
occasional  treatment  of  this  subject.  The  shep- 
herds are  assembled,  and  St.  Joseph  is  present ;  his 
attitude,  leaning  on  a  stone,  one  hand  crossed  above 
the  other,  is  natural.  This  position  is  rather  an 
original  touch.  The  painting  is  not  remarkable  in 
other  ways. 

The  portrait,  by  Sustermans,  of  Vittoria  della 
Rovere  as  a  Vestal  Virgin,  is  most  delightful  in 
pose.  There  is  great  stateliness  in  her  attitude, 
as  she  stands  holding  in  her  hands  a  sieve,  and 
clad  entirely  differently  from  any  Vestal  Virgin,  — 
but  doubtless  as  Sustermans  conceived  that  they 
might  have  dressed.  Her  hair  hangs  free  on  her 
shoulders,  and  she  wears  a  green  mantle.  The 
whole  effect  is  thoroughly  good.  She  was  the  wife 
of  Grand  Duke  Ferdinand  II.,  who  came  to  live  in 


U\)c  Iball  ot  5upttet  147 

the  Pitti  in  the  seventeenth  century,  bringing  with 
him  the  art  collections  of  his  father,  Cosimo  II. 
Vittoria  was  a  daughter  of  that  Francesco  Maria 
della  Rovere,  whose  portrait  by  Baroccio  will  be 
seen  in  the  next  room;  and  on  his  death  she  in- 
herited his  art  treasures,  which  were  brought  to 
the  Pitti  as  part  of  her  dowry. 

Joost  Sustermans  was  a  Fleming,  having  been 
born  in  Antwerp  in  1597.  But  his  claim  as  a  Flem- 
ish artist  stops  there.  He  went  early  in  life  to  Italy, 
and  painted  court  portraits  for  the  remainder  of 
his  life.  In  the  time  of  Cosimo  II.,  he  went  to 
Florence,  where  he  remained,  painting  portraits  of 
all  the  existing  members  of  the  Medici  family. 
Many  of  these  pictures  hang  in  the  Pitti.  He  was 
retained  in  the  court  until  the  death  of  Cosimo  III. 
He  had  the  talent  of  being  able  to  retain  a  likeness 
while  flattering  the  individual,  —  perhaps  the  most 
essential  quality  in  a  popular  portrait  painter.  Kug- 
ler  thus  sums  up  his  excellences :  "  He  was  of 
decided  realist  tendency,  an  able  draughtsman,  a 
powerful  and  clean  colourist,  and  possessed  much 
freedom  of  the  brush."  He  died  in  Florence  in 
1681.  ^ 

Number  118  represents  the  artist,  Andrea  del 
Sarto,  and  his  wife,  Lucrezia. 

It  will  help  us  to  understand  more  intelligently 
the  large  number  of  pictures  by  Del  Sarto  in  the 


148        XTbe  Hrt  ot  tbe  pittt  palace 

Pitti  Palace  if  we  look  for  a  moment  into  the  cir- 
cumstances of  his  life,  which,  in  his  case,  so  greatly 
influenced  his  art.  He  was  born  in  Florence  in 
i486,  the  son  of  a  tailor,  whence  his  name,  — "  Del 
Sarto."  His  real  name  was  Vanucci.  As  a  youth, 
he  began  to  show  promise  of  artistic  talents,  and 
was  sent  early  to  work  in  the  studio  of  Piero  di 
Cosimo.  After  a  short  time  of  apprenticeship,  he 
and  another  ambitious  young  friend,  none  other 
than  the  famous  Franciabigio,  decided  to  set  up 
a  studio  together.  These  two  fellows  received  as 
many  orders  as  they  could  execute,  and  their  studio 
became  a  rendezvous  for  the  wits  and  sages  of 
Bohemia.  Among  their  intimates  was  Rustici,  who 
must  have  been  an  eccentric  genius.  He  had  a  pas- 
sion for  exotic  pets ;  among  these  was  a  hedgehog, 
that  used  to  roll  itself  up  under  the  table  and  prick 
the  shins  of  guests.  Rustici  had  one  of  the  rooms 
in  his  house  flooded,  and  there  he  cherished  ser- 
pents and  aquatic  curiosities. 

If  the  innocent  Bohemian  freaks  of  these  boon 
companions  had  been  the  sum  of  his  follies,  Andrea 
might  have  lived  to  realize  a  fortune  by  his  art; 
but  unfortunately,  he  fell  in  love,  not  wisely  but  too 
well,  the  object  of  his  devotion  being  one  Lucrezia, 
the  wife  of  a  cap-maker,  who  seems  to  have  been  a 
general  fascinator,  and  who  turned  the  heads  of 
many  young  men.     Andrea's  head  followed  those 


Ube  Iball  of  Jupiter  149 

of  his  contemporaries,  and  it  seems  to  have  turned 
a  httle  farther  than  the  others,  for,  when  Lucrezia's 
husband  died  on  a  sudden,  he  married  the  widow, 
and  from  that  time  all  his  money  went  to  decking 
her  out  for  her  progressive  conquests. 

Sweet,  amiable,  easily  led,  Andrea  seems  to  have 
worshipped  this  unworthy  but  enchanting  woman. 
She  became  the  inspiration  for  his  most  sacred  pic- 
tures, most  inappropriately  selected  as  his  type  for 
the  Virgin.  And  the  result  is  so  inexpressibly 
lovely  that  "  Men  have  excused  him,"  as  Browning 
has  expressed  it,  describing  the  painter  sitting  in 
one  of  his  moods  of  conjugal  religion,  adoring  his 
Lucrezia's  outward  appearance,  and  interpreting 
his  emotions  as  spiritual,  —  a  common  mistake 
among  people  who  have  the  artistic  temperament 
in  an  unhealthy  degree  : 

"  Let  my  hands  frame  your  face  in  your  hair's  gold, 
You  beautiful  Lucrezia  that  art  mine ! 
Raphael  did  this  —  Andrea  painted  that  — 
The  Roman's  is  the  better  when  you  pray, 
But  still,  the  other's  Virgin  was  his  wife  — 
Men  will  excuse  me." 

Arid  again : 

"  You  smile  ?    Why,  there's  my  picture  ready  made ! 
There's  what  we  painters  call  our  harmony  !  .  .  . 

So,  keep  looking  so, 
My  serpentining  beauty,  rounds  on  rounds  !  '* 


150        Ubc  Hrt  ot  tbe  pitti  palace 

Artists  laboured  much  for  the  churches  in  those 
days,  and  often  received  small  equivalent  for  their 
time  and  thought.  For  painting  a  Pieta  at  the  Ser- 
vite  Convent,  Andrea  was  paid  in  a  bunch  of  votive 
candles.  The  good  brothers  evidently  believed  in 
"  casting  their  bread  upon  the  waters,"  and  no  doubt 
the  candles  returned  to  them  in  smoke  and  good 
wishes. 

In  1 5 17  Andrea  painted  the  renowned  Madonna 
del  Arpie  in  the  Uffizi.  Perhaps  this  Madonna  is 
one  of  the  most  beautiful  of  all  those  of  the  type 
recognized  as  his,  and  presents  Lucrezia  in  the 
power  of  her  youthful  glory.  In  15 18  followed  the 
powerful  Disputa,  which  is  in  the  Pitti  Gallery; 
and,  having  the  true  spirit  of  applying  his  art  even 
to  the  crafts,  Andrea  executed  also  the  paintings 
of  the  History  of  Joseph  on  the  lids  of  two  mar- 
riage-chests presented  by  Salvi  Borgherini  to  Mar- 
gherita  AccajuoH  on  her  wedding-day. 

In  1523  Del  Sarto  left  Florence  for  a  time,  to 
escape  the  plague  which  was  raging  there.  He 
went  to  a  convent  for  refuge,  where  he  painted  the 
exquisite  Pieta,  which  hangs  in  the  Pitti,  and  which 
will  be  described  in  its  turn.  In  1524  the  Madonna 
in  Glory  with  Saints  was  executed;  this  is  also 
to  be  seen  in  the  Pitti.  It  is  worth  while  to  notice 
that,  as  time  goes  on,  Andrea  paints  a  more  mature 
woman  as  the  Virgin.     It  is  unpleasant  to  remem- 


Zbc  Dall  ot  Jupiter  is^ 

ber  that  this  must  have  been  because  his  wife  was 
getting  older,  for  she  continued  to  be  his  model. 
His  power  of  delineation  never  waned,  for,  as  he 
died  when  he  was  only  forty-two,  he  had  no  de- 
cadence. Among  his  latest  pictures  are  the  two 
Holy  Families  in  the  Pitti,  and  the  large  painting 
of  the  Virgin  in  Glory,  in  which  the  portrait  of 
himself  appears,  and  which  was  left  unfinished  on 
his  easel  at  the  time  of  his  death.  Some  of  his 
most  powerful  work  occurs  in  these  last  efforts. 
Surely  he  might  have  uttered  without  egotism  the 
words  with  which  Browning  credits  him : 

"  No  sketches  first,  no  studies,  —  that's  long  past. 
I  do  what  many  dream  of  all  their  lives. 
Dream?     Strive  to  do,  and  agonize  to  do, 
And  fail  in  doing." 

Andrea  del  Sarto  died  of  the  plague  in  1530. 
His  wife,  with  that  sense  of  self-preservation  which 
characterized  her,  discreetly  withdrew  in  order  to 
escape  contagion,  so  that  the  painter  died  in  soli- 
tude. The  brothers  of  the  Scalzo  buried  him  with 
short  delay.  Biadi  alludes  to  this  disposition  of 
his  remains  as  "  the  poorest  possible  "  funeral. 

Baldinucci  is  responsible  for  a  narrative  of  some 
interest.  One  day  when  the  artist  Empoli  was  em- 
ployed copying  Del  Sarto's  Nativity  in  the  Servite 
Cloister,  an  old  lady  paused  by  him  and  watched 


trbe  t)all  of  Supttet  153 

several  persons  are  gathered.  On  the  steps  which 
lead  to  the  portico  a  youth  is  resting,  and  an  ex- 
quisite landscape  shows  beyond,  while  through  the 
open  arches  of  the  portico  may  be  seen  a  picturesque 
ruin.  Mary  has  risen  from  a  little  prie  dieu,  upon 
which  is  an  inscription.  It  may  be  thus  translated : 
"  Andrea  del  Sarto  has  painted  thee  here  as  he  car- 
ries thee  in  his  heart;  and  not  such  as  thou  art, 
Marie,  to  thy  glory  rather  than  to  his  renown." 

Garofolo  has  painted  a  striking  picture  of  Au- 
gustus and  the  Sibyl.  The  legend,  as  most  of  us 
have  heard,  is  an  ancient  one.  The  Emperor  Au- 
gustus Caesar  visited  the  Tiburtine  Sibyl  to  ask  her 
to  answer  his  question  whether  he  ought  to  allow 
his  people  to  worship  him  as  a  god,  and  to  receive 
divine  honours,  as  the  Senate  had  decreed.  The 
Sibyl  replied  by  causing  a  cleft  in  the  clouds  above 
an  altar;  there,  enthroned,  were  the  Madonna  and 
Child,  while  a  voice  was  heard  chanting,  "  Behold 
the  altar  of  the  living  God."  Augustus  then  pro- 
ceeded, after  this  vision,  to  erect  upon  the  Capitoline 
Hill  the  Church  of  the  Ara  Cceli. 

In  Garofolo's  treatment  of  the  story  the  general 
atmosphere  is  interesting,  and  the  figure  of  the 
Sibyl  is  a  graceful  one,  although  the  proportions  are 
a  little  strained,  the  distance  from  her  neck  to  her 
breast  being  too  short,  and  from  the  breast  to  the 
knee  much  too  long.     The  vision  in  the  heavens  ,rnt>' 


VlHi 


VEUSW^  t^'^ 


154        Ube  Hrt  ot  tbe  pittt  palace 

might  have  been  better  conceived;  the  Child  looks 
as  if  he  were  wading  through  the  clouds.  The 
scene  is  laid  in  an  open  portico.  Augustus  Caesar 
is  dressed  like  an  apostle  rather  than  a  Roman  Em- 
peror; his  figure  is  rather  attenuated,  as  he  kneels, 
shading  his  eyes  with  his  hand,  looking  carefully  in 
a  diametrically  opposite  direction  from  the  vision. 
The  treatment  of  the  draperies  of  the  Sibyl  is 
charming,  her  tunic  falling  in  folds  of  quite  a  Gre- 
cian aspect.  On  the  floor  is  an  extremely  diminutive 
lap-dog.  One  wonders  if  it  is  possible  that  a  Sibyl 
could  keep  such  a  canine;  and  it  certainly  does  not 
look  like  an  emperor's  pet!  In  other  words,  it 
seems  to  have  no  raison  d'etre.  It  is  put  there  in 
order  to  fill  a  space.  The  picture  is  not  a  powerful 
one. 

The  gigantic  St.  Marc  of  Fra  Bartolommeo  occu- 
pies a  large  space  in  this  apartment.  The  figure  is 
full  of  action,  although  seated;  it  is  restless  and 
energetic.  The  saint  is  painted  in  a  kind  of  niche, 
with  a  shell-like  apse  above  him.  While  Delia 
Porta  had  studied  under  Roselli,  he  had  become 
attracted  by  the  work  of  Da  Vinci,  and  his  early 
works  are  so  fine  as  to  be  almost  miniatures.  He 
had  been  criticized  as  being  unable  to  reproduce  any- 
thing on  a  large  scale;  so  he  defiantly  painted  this 
St.  Marc,  thereby  silencing  all  cavil  on  that  score. 
His  method  was  first  to  draw  the  figure  nude,  and 


Ube  atall  ot  Jupiter  155 

then  to  drape  it,  and  thus  he  never  fell  into  the 
error  of  drawing  irrelevant  folds  with  nothing 
under  them. 

A  good  cavalier  portrait  is  Number  126,  by  Phi- 
lippe de  Champaigne,  one  of  the  best  of  the  Flemish 
masters;  he  was  born  at  Brussels  in  1602,  and  died 
in  Paris  on  the  twelfth  of  August  in  1674.  This 
portrait  is  of  a  man  in  armour,  with  a  sash-like 
scarf  loosely  crossed  from  shoulder  to  hip,  and  a 
square  lace  collar.  His  hair  is  dressed  in  the  elab- 
orate curled  style  of  the  period. 

There  is  a  very  sweet,  human  Holy  Family  by 
Crespi,  Number  132.  This  picture  represents  the 
main  figures  in  half-length.  St.  Joseph  has  caught 
a  little  bird,  and  brings  it,  tied  by  a  string,  to  show 
to  the  Infant  Jesus.  The  Child,  in  his  mother's 
arms,  is  hiding  his  face  and  motioning  to  his  father 
to  take  the  bird  away,  or  to  set  it  at  liberty.  The 
attitude  is  thoroughly  childlike,  and  might  arise 
from  fear  at  the  little  wild  bird,  when  brought  into 
such  close  proximity,  or  from  sympathy  at  the  bird's 
captivity;  in  either  case,  it  is  a  delightful  and  orig- 
inal picture. 

The  picture.  Number  129,  of  the  Woman  Taken 
in  Adultery,  being  brought  before  Christ,  is  a  good 
example  of  the  style  of  Mazzolini,  a  painter  of 
Ferrara  from  1481—1530,  remarkable  for  his  ex- 
treme finish,  equal  care  being  taken  with  all  details. 


156         Ube  Hrt  of  tbe  pitti  palace 

Christ  is  in  the  act  of  forgiving  the  woman,  who 
stands  before  him,  her  hands  crossed  and  her  eyes 
cast  down.  The  hypocrites  and  Pharisees  stand 
about;  and  the  expressions  on  their  faces  are  very 
cleverly  portrayed.  Doubt,  disapproval,  triumphant 
virtue  gloating  over  exposed  vice,  with  no  con- 
ception of  the  Christian  ideal  of  protection  and  tol- 
erance, —  without  realization  that  their  sin  of  hard- 
heartedness  and  self- justification  was  quite  as  hid- 
eous in  the  sight  of  the  Lord  as  was  the  sin  of  the 
woman  whom  they  condemn,  —  all  are  drawn  with 
feeling  and  force.  One  acid  old  person  is  turning 
away,  positively  outraged  at  what  he  considers  dan- 
gerous doctrine;  another  is  stooping  to  pick  up  a 
stone. 

Manozzi's  Return  from  the  Hunt  is  a  spirited 
display  of  cavalier  portraits.  The  men  who  have 
been  participating  in  the  chase  are  ranged  up  to 
have  their  pictures  painted,  behind  a  table  on  which 
are  deposited  their  spoils.  The  colours  of  the  cos- 
tumes are  pleasant,  —  the  figure  at  the  right  is  in 
blue  and  tan,  while  at  the  left  is  one  in  blue  and 
green;  the  others  are  dressed  in  inconspicuous 
shades  of  a  neutral  cast.  The  central  seated  figure 
is  good;  he  is  in  black,  and  holds  the  composition 
together  capitally.  Pheasants,  rabbits,  and  wood- 
cock seem  to  have  been  the  game.  The  hunter  at 
the  right  still  carries  his  gun  on  his  shoulder,  and 


Ube  1ball  ot  Jupiter  157 

others  have  their  hunting-pieces  in  their  hands.    It 
is  a  good  picture  of  its  class. 

Rubens's  Holy  Family,  Number  139,  is  quite  in 
his  usual  vein,  —  wholesome,  human,  winsome,  — 
in  fact,  it  is  a  portrait-study  of  his  own  menage, 
with  no  suggestion,  either  in  types,  costumes,  or 
materials,  of  the  subject  which  it  purports  to  rep- 
resent. It  is  almost  "  jolly."  The  children  are 
blooming,  jocund  little  chaps,  and  the  mother, 
father,  and  grandmother  are  Rubens's  usual  types. 
The  mother  is  a  good-natured,  simpering  Dutch- 
woman. As  to  there  being  any  inspiration  in  the 
picture,  it  is  impossible  to  find  more  than  a  proud 
grandmother  and  parents  viewing  two  very  rollick- 
ing, plump  children.  It  is  said  by  some  to  be  a 
studio  piece.  Nevertheless,  considered  simply  as 
a  family  group,  it  is  thoroughly  charming.  Ruskin 
remarks  that  "  Rubens  wants  the  feeling  for  grace 
and  mystery."  It  is  true,  he  was  too  baldly  real- 
istic at  times.  He  had  a  great  way  of  painting  his 
own  family  in  sacred  scenes.  He  is  so  much  im- 
pressed himself  by  the  worldly  and  theatrical  value 
of  certain  subjects  that  he  even  advertises  them 
according  to  those  characteristics.  In  his  priced 
catalogue,  for  instance,  he  mentions :  "  Six  hundred 
florins;  a  picture  of  Achilles  clothed  as  a  woman. 
Done  by  my  best  scholars,  the  whole  retouched  by 
my  hand.     A  most  beautiful  picture,  and  full  of 


is8        Ubc  Hrt  ot  tbe  iptttt  palace 

many  beautiful  young  girls."  He  knew  the  appeal 
to  popular  taste. 

The  Bacchanale  of  Rubens  is  a  free  fight  between 
satyrs  and  nymphs.  All  laws  are  disregarded,  and 
they  are  capturing  any  one  whom  they  can.  On 
the  ground  lie  a  dead  boar  and  a  dead  deer;  the 
satyrs  have  evidently  returned  from  a  hunting  party, 
and  have  fallen  in  with  nymphs.  The  picture  is 
numbered  141. 

A  Magdalen,  by  Artemesia  Gentileschi,  is  Num- 
ber 142.  On  a  table  is  seen  a  skull,  and  a  vase  of 
perfume  Is  on  the  ground.  On  the  table  appears 
the  inscription,  "  Optimam  Partem  Elegit."  The 
lady  is  in  a  very  low-necked  Italian  Renaissance 
costume  of  luscious  satin,  and  evidently  moves  in 
good  society.  Her  hair  is  in  ringlets,  and  there  is 
nothing  to  suggest  that  the  picture  represents  a 
penitent,  except  that  she  is  endowed  with  a  halo,  — 
infallible  proof  of  sainthood  in  art.  Near  the  skull 
on  the  table  is  a  mirror.  Her  lips  are  parted  and 
her  body  thrown  slightly  forward.  She  might  be 
an  opera  singer  trying  to  reach  a  high  note. 

Very  few  women  painted  in  the  era  of  the  Renais- 
sance, but  among  them  was  Artemesia  Gentileschi, 
who  worked  at  Pisa,  where  she  was  born  in  1590. 
She  was  the  daughter  of  an  artist,  and  is  said  to 
have  been  a  most  charming  woman.  She  was  as 
popular  for  her  manners  and  appearance  as  for  her 


U\)c  1ball  of  5upttet  iS9 

talents  as  a  painter.  She  lived  for  some  time  in 
Naples,  where  she  married.  She  was  influenced 
by  Guido  Reni  and  Domenichino.  She  had  great 
variety  of  style,  and  was  particularly  famous  for 
portraiture.  The  picture  of  the  Magdalen  was 
probably  begun  as  a  portrait. 

In  this  hall  stands  one  of  the  most  famous  of 
the  great  tables  made  of  pietra  dura,  or  Florentine 
mosaic.  This  style  of  work  differs  essentially  from 
the  mosaic  made  in  Rome;  for  in  the  Roman  vari- 
ety the  tesserae  are  small,  and  the  effect  is  produced 
by  innumerable  tiny  bits  of  colour,  on  something 
the  same  principle  as  the  closely  clustered  square 
stitches  in  cross-stitch  embroidery;  while  in  pietra 
dura  the  actual  stones  are  cut  and  polished  the  exact 
shape  and  size  of  the  values  they  are  to  represent, 
the  edges  fitted  to  a  nicety,  and  the  workmanship 
necessarily  much  more  skilful  than  in  Roman  mosaic. 


CHAPTER   VII. 


THE  HALL  OF  SATURN 


Is  the  name  of  Raphael  less  significant  than  it 
was  fifty  years  ago?  Modern  criticism  is  not  as 
ready  with  its  unstinted  praises  as  was  that  of  an 
earlier  day;  but  no  criticism  or  modern  spirit  can 
prevent  a  wholesome  appreciation  of  the  immortal 
part  of  Raphael's  genius.  "  His  art,"  says  Benson, 
"  is  above  fashion,  as  it  is  above  criticism."  It  is 
a  narrow  person  who  can  see  beauties  only  in  the 
particular  style  which  happens  to  prevail  or  to  be 
the  fashion  in  his  own  day.  Let  us  return  to  our 
Raphael  in  the  Hall  of  Saturn,  with  a  mind  free 
from  prejudice,  and  see  what  is  really  there  of  merit 
or  defect.  One  should  not  accept  the  rather  degen- 
erate cavil  of  iconoclastic  eccentrics,  to  whom  the 
fact  of  unchallenged  ascendency  is  in  itself  a  chal- 
lenge. 

The  most  popular  picture,  perhaps,  that  is  shown 

in  the  Pitti  is  Raphael's  Madonna  of  the  Chair. 

It  is  a  round  picture,  familiar  even  to  children  in  all 

i6o 


MADoNiSA    Of    THE    CHAIR 
By  Raphael ;  in  the  Hall  of  Saturn 


-r'fi:  KS 


Ube  Iball  ot  Saturn  i6i 

countries.  It  has  been  more  copied  and  engraved 
than  any  other  picture.  To  some  sensitive  souls 
this  signifies  that  it  is  "  too  common."  But  what 
are  the  quaUties  which  have  thus  appealed  to  so 
many  generations?  Surely  not  a  commonplaceness 
of  composition,  handling,  or  colour.  Not  until  one 
sees  the  original  can  one  possibly  know  the  real 
power  of  this  picture.  There  is  an  element  of  in- 
describable and  uncopyable  luminosity  about  it,  like 
the  Immaculate  Conception  of  Murillo  in  the  Louvre, 
which  has  also  been  copied  almost  as  often,  and 
yet  which  bursts  upon  one  when  first  seen  in  the 
original  like  a  new  picture,  so  full  is  it  of  that  subtle 
quality  which  is  so  different  from  the  work  of 
any  inferior  artist.  The  trouble  is  that  so  much 
undiscriminating  and  lavish  praise  has  been  be- 
stowed upon  the  Madonna  of  the  Chair,  that  the 
pendulum  has  swung  the  other  way  at  last.  Let 
us  examine  it  and  see  what  there  really  is  to  admire. 

It  is  a  round  painting  on  wood,  a  little  over  two 
feet  in  diameter,  and  is  the  work  of  the  master 
during  his  Roman  period,  between  15 lo  and  15 14, 
while  he  was  working  in  the  Vatican.  It  was  prob- 
ably executed  by  order  of  Leo  X.,  or  perhaps  for 
one  of  the  acquisitive  Medici. 

There  is  a  charming  legend  connected  with  the 
painting.  The  story  is  that  a  venerable  hermit 
dwelt  among  the  hills  near  Rome,  who  was  called 


i62        ube  Hrt  ot  tbe  pitti  palace 

Father  Bernardo,  and  that  in  a  frightful  storm  the 
life  of  this  old  man  was  once  saved  by  his  taking 
shelter  in  a  great  oak-tree  which  grew  on  the  estate 
of  a  wine-dresser.  This  wine-dresser  had  a  lovely 
daughter,  Mary,  who  was  hospitable  and  kind  to 
the  hermit  on  this  occasion.  When  Father  Ber- 
nardo departed  from  the  wine-dresser's  shelter,  he 
pronounced  a  blessing  upon  Mary,  and  also  be^ 
sought  the  Almighty  that  the  friendly  tree  might 
be  distinguished  by  some  special  favour.  After 
many  years  the  hermit  died.  In  the  meantime,  the 
tree  had  been  cut  down  and  sections  of  it  prepared 
for  heads  for  the  wine^casks.  One  day  Mary  was 
sitting  by  one  of  these  casks  with  a  child  in  her 
arms.  An  older  child  ran  to  show  her  a  stick  which 
he  had  fashioned  into  a  cross.  Raphael,  reported 
to  be  in  search  of  a  model  for  a  Madonna,  providen- 
tially came  up  at  the  moment  when  this  propitious 
tableau  presented  itself.  He  immediately  appro- 
priated the  top  of  the  wine-cask,  and  sketched  the 
group  then  and  there.  He  carried  it  away  in  tri- 
umph, and  the  Madonna  del  Seggiola  was  the  final 
result.  Thus  the  hermit's  blessing  was  realized, 
and  both  Mary  and  the  oak-tree  were  immortalized. 
Modern  critics  find  in  this  picture  small  evidence 
of  the  devotional  spirit.  There  are  absolutely  none 
of  the  superstitious  or  symbolical  elements  which 
occur  in  so  many  of  the  precious  earlier  Madonnas 


Ube  fball  ot  Saturn  163 

of  the  Italian  schools.  It  is  an  absolutely  realistic 
picture  of  a  devoted  mother  hugging  her  child  close, 
and  a  happy  little  chubby  brother  or  cousin  playing 
with  them.  But  it  is  a  little  extreme  in  Taine  to 
say  that  the  mother  is  a  Circassian  or  Greek  sultana, 
clutching  her  infant  with  the  beautiful  gesture  of 
a  savage  animal !  That  there  is  not  as  much  spirit- 
ual as  earthly  beauty  in  this  picture  we  must  cer- 
tainly grant.  It  is  rather  a  glorifying  of  maternity 
than  an  exposition  of  the  mediaeval  interpretation  of 
the  doctrine  of  the  Immaculate  Conception.  But 
this  is  not  a  valid  objection.  An  artist  has  a  right 
to  interpret  a  scene  according  to  his  own  beliefs; 
and  it  is  not  unlikely  that  the  Holy  Family  in  Naz- 
areth presented  a  somewhat  similar  outward  ap- 
pearance to  other  families  of  their  period  and  local- 
ity. The  subtle  difference  between  the  Holy  Family 
and  other  families,  which  has  been  expressed  in 
so  many  early  pictures  by  visible  halos  and  attitudes 
of  conscious  piety,  may  in  reality  be  quite  as  much 
a  license  of  the  painter  as  is  this  entire  realism. 
Each  mode  of  representation  has  its  own  charm; 
but  the  Madonna  of  the  Chair  should  not  be  called 
gross  because  we  love  also  the  refined  and  exalted 
types  of  Fra  Angelico  and  Lippo  Memmi. 

Hawthorne  expressed  himself  as  convinced  that 
this  was  the  most  beautiful  picture  in  the  world,  and 
George  Eliot  evidently  found  religion,  as  she  inter- 


i64        Ube  Htt  ot  tbe  pttti  palace 

preted  it,  in  the  "  grave  gaze  of  the  Infant,"  which, 
she  says,  ''  is  the  final  and  lasting  impression  "  made 
upon  her  by  the  picture. 

A  most  interesting  writer  of  travels  in  the  eight- 
eenth century.  Dr.  John  Moore,  tells  an  anecdote 
in  connection  with  the  Madonna  of  the  Chair.  He 
§ays  that  one  evening,  in  the  Pitti  Palace,  where 
the  grand  duke  resided,  a  friend  was  pointing  out 
the  excellences  of  some  of  the  pictures  to  him,  while 
"  a  gentleman  in  the  company,  who  would  rather 
remain  ignorant  than  listen  to  the  lectures  of  a 
connoisseur,  walked  on  by  himself  into  the  other 
apartments.  When  he  returned,  he  said,  *  I  know 
no  more  of  painting  than  my  pointer;  but  there 
is  a  picture  in  one  of  the  other  rooms  which  I  would 
rather  have  than  all  .  .  .  the  portrait  of  a  healthy, 
handsome  country  woman  with  her  child  in  her 
arms.  .  .  .'  We  followed  him,  and  the  picture 
which  pleased  him  so  much  was  the  famous  Ma- 
donna del  Seggiola  by  Raphael.  Our  instructor 
immediately  pronounced  him  a  man  of  genuine 
taste,  because  without  any  previous  knowledge  or 
instruction  he  had  fixed  his  admiration  on  the  finest 
picture  in  Florence."  (But  the  gentleman  expressed 
disappointment  when  told  that  it  represented  the 
Holy  Family.)  "'Because,'  said  he,  'though  I 
admire  the  art  of  the  painter,  and  thought  it  one 
of  the  truest  copies  of  nature  I  ever  saw,  yet  I  con- 


XTbe  •fcall  ot  Saturn  165 

fess  my  admiration  is  much  abated  when  you  inform 
me  that  his  intention  was  to  represent  the  Virgin.' 
*  Why  so  ?  '  repHed  the  cicerone.  *  The  Virgin 
Mary  was  not  of  high  rank  ?  '  '  No  rank  in  Hfe/ 
said  the  other,  '  could  give  additional  dignity  to 
the  person  who  had  been  told  by  an  angel  from 
heaven  that  she  had  found  favour  with  God,  and 
that  her  son  should  be  called  the  Son  of  the  Highest 
...  in  the  countenance  of  such  a  woman,  besides 
comeliness,  I  look  for  the  most  lively  expression  of 
admiration,  gratitude,  and  virgin  modesty,  and 
divine  love.  And  when  I  am  told  that  this  picture 
is  by  the  greatest  painter  that  ever  lived,  I  am 
disappointed  in  perceiving  no  traces  of  that  kind 
in  it.'  What  justice  there  is  in  this  gentleman's 
remarks,  I  leave  it  to  better  judges  than  I  pretend 
to  be  to  determine." 

To  show  how  differently  two  persons  of  different 
temperaments  may  be  struck  by  the  same  picture, 
I  will  quote  another  traveller,  George  Stillman  Hil- 
liard,  whose  opinion  of  the  Madonna  of  the  Chair 
may  be  compared  with  the  analysis  of  it  by  Doctor 
Moore's  friend.  "  Its  chief  charm,"  says  Hilliard, 
"  is  in  its  happy  blending  of  the  divine  and  the 
human  elements.  Some  painters  treat  this  subject 
in  such  a  way  that  the  spectator  sees  only  a  mother 
caressing  her  child;  while  by  others  the  only  ideas 
awakened  are  those  of  the  Virgin  and  Redeemer. 


i66        Ube  Hrt  ot  tbe  Ipitti  palace 

But  heaven  and  earth  meet  on  Raphael's  canvas,  — 
the  purity  of  heaven  and  the  tenderness  of  earth. 
The  round,  infantile  form,  the  fond,  clasping  arms, 
the  sweetness  and  the  grace  belong  to  this  world; 
but  the  faces,  especially  that  of  the  Infant  Saviour, 
in  whose  eyes  there  is  a  mysterious  depth  of  ex- 
pression, .  .  .  are  touched  by  the  light  from  heaven, 
and  suggest  something  to  worship  as  well  as  some- 
thing to  love." 

A  Circassian  sultana,  —  a  healthy  peasant,  —  the 
Queen  of  Heaven,  —  De  Te  Fabula ! 

It  is  one  comfort  that  no  one  has  even  risen  up 
to  announce  that  the  picture  is  by  some  other  artist. 
Among  technical  points  that  are  worth  nothing,  the 
space,  an  unusual  one  for  a  group,  is  well  filled. 
Crowe  points  out  that  perhaps  this  is  accomplished 
at  the  expense  of  the  comfortable  appearance  of  the 
subjects,  —  possibly  the  figure  of  the  Virgin  is  a 
bit  cramped  to  fit  the  exigencies  of  the  circle.  But 
as  a  composition  it  is  graceful,  and,  if  the  costume 
does  somewhat  suggest  an  undue  mixture  of  East- 
ern and  Western  styles,  the  colouring  of  the  vari- 
ous fabrics  is  a  relief  from  the  conventional  blue 
Virgins  which  so  abound  in  art. 

Whether  one  prefers  Greek  or  Gothic  styles, 
Raphael  is  the  only  painter  who  unites  in  his  manner 
the  excellences  of  both.  Greek  beauty  and  religious 
fervour,  —  these  are  no  longer  irreconcilable,   for 


tlbe  Iball  ot  Saturn  167 

Raphael  has  succeeded  in  fusing  them.  There  are 
others  who  can  deHneate  beauty  as  well  as  he;  but 
no  other  artist  seems  capable  of  combining  this  rich 
beauty  with  the  spiritual  exaltation  of  his  Madon- 
nas. In  later  testimony  regarding  this  famous  pic- 
ture, I  quote  from  Lyman  Abbott :  "I  came  back 
again  and  again  to  the  Madonna  of  the  Chair;  be- 
cause, as  I  stood  before  this  picture,  the  purity  of 
the  mother's  face,  and  her  protecting  arm,  and 
the  trustful  repose  of  the  child,  inspired  me  with 
a  reverence  for  motherhood  such  as  no  philosopher 
could  have  inspired  by  his  argument,  nor  novelist 
by  his  story,  nor  preacher  by  his  sermon,  nor  even 
musician  and  poet  combined  by  their  song." 

Raphael  Sanzio,  the  most  universally  acknowl- 
edged popular  painter  of  Italian  art,  was  born  in 
Urbino  in  1483.  Raphael's  style  is  generally  di- 
vided into  three  manners :  his  early  or  Umbrian 
manner,  which  was  supposed,  roughly,  to  extend 
from  his  first  efforts  until  about  1504;  followed  by 
his  life  in  Florence,  where  he  developed  his  "  second 
manner,"  the  Florentine,  from  1504  till  about  15 12; 
after  that,  when  he  went  to  Rome  to  paint  in  the 
Vatican,  his  Roman,  or  "  third  manner,"  succeeded 
these  other  two,  lasting  until  his  pathetic  death  in 
1520.  A  cursory  examination  of  these  three  char- 
acteristic styles  in  which  this  artist  expressed  him- 
self is  now  our  purpose. 


i68        Ube  Hrt  ot  tbe  pittt  palace 

The  first  manner  was  characterized  by  the  lofty, 
thoughtful  conception  to  which  we  have  alluded; 
his  handling  at  this  time  was  minute,  careful,  and 
clear.  His  colours  were  pure,  and  the  whole  work 
reminiscent  of  the  conscientious  labour  of  his  good 
master,  Perugino. 

The  second,  or  Florentine,  manner  was  simply 
a  development  of  this  style,  and  a  broadening  into 
fuller  comprehension  and  a  less  academic  expres- 
sion. 

The  third,  or  Roman,  manner  was  almost  a  new 
school  of  painting,  so  vigorous  and  broad  did  it 
become;  the  tender  smoothness  of  the  early  work 
has  disappeared,  and  in  fresco  broad  brush-marks 
and  defined  lines,  and  in  easel  pictures  a  softer  mod- 
elling of  the  outline,  are  observable.  More  power, 
more  ability  to  express  in  fewer  touches  the  idea  that 
he  intended  to  convey,  —  these,  which  are  the  char- 
acteristics of  progress  in  the  best  artists  in  all  ages, 
were  marked  in  the  Roman  manner  of  Raphael.  To 
what  farther  degree  of  perfection  this  amazing 
youth  would  have  attained  will  never  be  known,  for 
his  life  was  only  thirty-seven  years,  and  his  death 
came  in  1520.  He  had  been  kept  waiting  in  a  cold 
antechamber  for  an  interview  with  the  Pope,  and 
had  taken  a  chill,  which  developed  into  the  treacher- 
ous Roman  fever,  which  in  a  few  days  ended  his 
life.     Count  Baldassare,  the  author  of  that  charm- 


Ube  Iball  ot  Saturn  169 

ingly  quaint  work,  "  The  Courtier,"  wrote  to  his 
mother :  *'  It  seems  to  me  that  I  am  no  longer  in 
Rome,  since  my  poor  dear  Raphael  is  no  more." 

We  all  know  the  touching  story  of  how  Raphael 
lay  in  state,  with  the  unfinished  picture  of  the  Trans- 
figuration hanging  over  his  bed.  His  tomb  is  to  be 
seen  in  the  Pantheon  in  Rome.  Some  years  ago 
his  remains  were  exhumed  and  an  examination 
made,  to  verify  the  body  beyond  a  doubt,  as  there 
had  arisen  some  question  as  to  the  place  of  his 
burial. 

We  now  turn  to  the  incomparable  Madonna  del 
Granduca,  another  well-known  Virgin  of  Raphael. 
This,  called  by  some  critics  the  loveliest  Madonna 
that  has  ever  been  painted,  was  the  first  Madonna 
which  Raphael  painted  after  he  left  Perugino.  Mo- 
relli  detects  so  much  of  the  influence  of  Raphael's 
earlier  master,  Timoteo  Viti,  that  he  considers  that 
it  might  be  more  properly  called  the  Madonna  del 
Duca,  as  it  was  very  likely  painted  in  1504,  at  Ur- 
bino,  for  the  Duke  Guidobaldo.  This  point,  how- 
ever, is  not  of  importance.  It  was  the  work  of  a 
youth  of  twenty-one,  and  there  can  hardly  be  a 
more  conclusive  argument  for  the  preeminent  genius 
of  Raphael  than  this  fact.  Carlo  Dolci  once  had  it 
in  his  possession,  after  which  it  was  purchased  for 
the  equivalent  of  about  $20  from  a  poor  widow. 
The  Grand  Duke  Ferdinand  III.  then  bought  it  for 


I70        ^bc  Htt  of  tbe  ©ttti  palace 

about  $800,  so  some  one  was  enriched  by  this 
transaction.  He  was  so  devoted  to  the  picture  that 
he  had  it  always  in  his  apartments,  and  carried  it 
with  him  on  his  travels  wherever  he  went,  —  rather 
an  unwieldy  mascot,  one  would  think,  as  it  is  on 
wood,  and  measures  over  two  feet  by  one  foot  nine 
inches. 

The  composition  is  perfectly  satisfactory.  It 
combines  the  spiritual  and  earthly  elements  to  a 
remarkable  degree.  It  has  much  of  that  sweet  piety 
of  sentiment  that  one  sees  in  Perugino  and  the 
earlier  Tuscan  painters.  The  Madonna  appears  in 
full  face,  holding  the  Child  seated  on  her  left  hand, 
while  with  her  right  hand  she  gives  him  the  usual 
support  suggested  by  his  position.  The  infant's 
eyes  are  directed  toward  the  beholder,  though  lower 
than  the  eye  level,  and  the  mother  is  looking  in 
the  same  direction.  There  is  a  suggestion  of  ele- 
vation in  this  arrangement,  as  if  the  two  holy  beings 
were  looking  downward  upon  the  world;  in  the 
child's  body  there  is  a  very  human  turn  towards  his 
mother,  as  though  for  protection.  As  Mr.  Still- 
man  says,  she  has  the  simplicity  of  a  Greek  statue 
and  the  sweetness  of  a  Christian  saint. 

One  can  readily  understand  how  restful  it  must 
have  been  for  Ferdinand,  after  a  tedious  journey  of 
the  eighteenth  century,  to  sit  down  before  this  noble 
work  of  art. 


MADONNA    DEL    GRANDUCA 
By  Raphael ;  in  the  Hall  of  Saturn 


mv 


#^^ 


^\ 


^!i 


kv«:\ 


CN\^^ 


Ube  iball  ot  Satutn  171 

The  robe  of  the  Madonna  is  a  soft  red,  and  the 
mantle  blue,  verging  on  green.  She  has  a  white 
veil  over  her  light  hair,  and  the  eyebrows  are  very 
slightly  defined.  As  the  fashion  of  the  day  was  to 
pluck  out  the  hairs  from  the  eyebrows  and  forehead, 
this  feature  is  evidently  intended  to  convey  the  local 
idea  of  beauty.  The  eyelids  are  heavy;  as  Hare 
points  out,  ''  the  holy,  honest,  and  sad  eyelid  .  .  . 
which  is  exaggerated  in  the  works  of  Francia  and 
Perugino."  This  is  one  of  the  few  Madonnas  in 
which  only  the  Virgin  and  Christ  appear.  There 
are  no  accessories ;  the  draperies  are  of  the  simplest, 
the  child  being  nude  except  for  a  little  scarf  which 
is  twisted  about  him.  The  mystical  element  sug- 
gested by  a  thread-like  halo  above  each  head  is  the 
only  bit  of  deliberate  symbolism  introduced. 

This  is  a  picture  which  illustrated  the  transition 
from  the  first  manner  of  Raphael  to  his  second. 
Muntz  may  be  quoted :  *'  It  showed  that  he  had 
acquired  complete  command  over  himself ;  the  mod- 
elling became  firm  and  precise  to  a  degree  unknown 
to  the  painters  of  the  Umbrian  school,  and  the  col- 
ouring became  much  clearer  and  more  brilliant." 
"  The  Madonna  del  Granduca,"  says  that  appre- 
ciative critic,  A.  C.  Owen,  "  has  in  it  the  mingling 
of  the  last  touches  of  the  reverence  and  solemnity 
of  the  Umbrian  school,  with  the  earthly  beauty,  the 
mere  maternal  expression  of  his  new  style."    When 


172        XTbe  Htt  ot  tbe  ptttt  palace 

Mrs.  Jameson  wrote  her  "  Diary  of  an  Ennuyee/* 
she  alluded  to  a  fact  of  interest  concerning  this 
picture.  '*  One  of  the  most  beautiful  of  Raphael's 
Madonnas  "  was  suspended  beside  the  bedside  of 
the  grand  duke.  She  admits  that  she  bribed  the 
attendant  to  show  her  this  room,  which  is  never 
exhibited,  and  complains  that  the  piety  of  the  duke 
might  just  as  well  be  satisfied  by  some  other  pic- 
ture, so  that  he  need  not  selfishly  appropriate  this 
gem. 

In  Raphael's  Madonna  del  Baldacchino,  Number 
165,  the  setting  and  background  of  the  picture  are 
interesting,  being  a  little  apsidal  chapel  with  a  cof- 
fered vault,  supported  on  columns  and  pilasters 
with  Corinthian  capitals.  A  throne  is  in  the  cen- 
tre, on  which  is  seated  the  Virgin  with  the  Child; 
and  this  throne  is  covered  by  a  canopy,  the  curtains 
of  which  are  being  raised  by  two  very  active  angels. 
The  Virgin  is  a  sweet  type,  something  on  the  order 
of  the  Granduca  Madonna,  and  the  child  is  delight- 
ful. St.  Peter,  on  the  left,  in  good  cool  yellows 
and  greens,  holds  a  substantial  key.  St  Bernardo, 
with  an  open  book,  stands  next  him.  St.  Bernardo 
is  regarded  as  a  patron  of  monastic  learning.  On 
the  right  are  St.  James  the  Less,  and  St.  Augustine, 
in  bishop's  mitre  and  clothed  in  red  vestments,  de- 
monstrating with  his  right  hand.  Two  charming 
child  angels  at  the  foot  of  the  throne  are  chanting 


Ube  1ball  of  Saturn  173 

from  a  parchment  scroll  which  they  hold  between 
them.  The  broad  treatment  of  these  two  figures, 
which  are  familiar  to  all  art  lovers,  is  admirable. 
They  suggest  Fra  Bartolommeo  quite  as  much  as 
Raphael.  There  is  much  about  the  picture  which 
is  like  the  handling  of  Fra  Bartolommeo,  especially 
the  general  arrangement.  The  only  parts  which 
are  unquestionably  by  Raphael  are  the  Virgin  and 
Child,  St.  Bernard  and  St.  Peter  on  the  left,  and 
the  upper  part  of  St.  James  with  the  staff  on  the 
rij^ht.  The  angels  above  seem  to  be  far  on  the  way 
to  turning  somersaults.  Their  extreme  action  con- 
trasts rather  abruptly  with  the  serenity  of  the  rest 
of  the  composition. 

The  next  picture  to  be  considered  is  Raphael's 
Vision  of  Ezekiel,  which,  though  it  is  on  a  very 
small  scale,  is  painted  with  a  broad,  dashing  stroke 
for  so  minute  a  picture,  and  has  none  of  the  smooth 
finish  of  the  earlier  work.  It  was  painted  about  the 
time  of  his  work  in  the  Loggia  in  the  Vatican. 

In  this  picture  Ezekiel  himself  occupies  a  minor 
position,  being  seen  only  in  the  dim  distance  down 
upon  the  earth,  while  the  spectator  is  transported 
to  the  heavens,  where  the  actual  vision  forms  the 
theme  of  the  picture. 

The  Eternal  Father  is  seated  on  the  symbolical 
beasts  of  the  Four  Evangelists,  the  eagle  principally 
bearing  him  upon  its  wings,  giving  an  expression 


174        Ube  Brt  of  tbc  ptttt  palace 

of  unrivalled  lightness  to  the  composition.  The  sub- 
ject is  taken  from  the  account  in  Ezekiel,  Chapter 
I. :  "  And  I  looked,  and,  behold,  a  whirlwind  came 
out  of  the  north,  a  great  cloud,  and  a  fire  infolding 
itself,  and  a  brightness  was  about  it,  .  .  .  out  of 
the  midst  of  the  fire.  Also  out  of  the  midst  thereof 
came  the  likeness  of  four  living  creatures  .  .  .  and 
as  for  the  likeness  of  their  faces,  they  four  had  the 
face  of  a  man,  and  the  face  of  a  lion,  on  the  right 
side:  and  they  four  had  the  face  of  an  ox  on  the 
left  side;  they  four  also  had  the  face  of  an  eagle. 
.  .  .  And  when  they  went,  I  heard  the  noise  of  their 
wings,  like  the  noise  of  great  waters,  as  the  voice 
of  the  Almighty,  the  voice  of  speech,  as  the  noise 
of  an  host;  .  .  .  and  above  the  firmament  that 
was  over  their  heads  was  the  likeness  ...  as  the 
appearance  of  a  man  above  upon  it.  And  I  saw 
as  the  colour  of  amber,  as  the  appearance  of  fire 
round  about  within  it,  .  .  .  and  it  had  brightness 
round  about.  ...  As  the  appearance  of  the  bow 
that  is  in  the  cloud  in  the  day  of  rain,  so  was 
the  appearance  of  the  brightness  round  about. 
This  was  the  apparance  of  the  likeness  of  the  glory 
of  the  Lord.  And  when  I  saw  it,  I  fell  upon  my 
face,  and  I  heard  a  voice  of  one  that  spake." 

No  more  inspiring  subject  could  be  suggested 
to  a  painter,  and  Raphael  has  used  it  nobly.  The 
eagle,  symbol  of  St.  John,  is  first  to  bear  the  hon- 


VISION    OF    EZEKIEL 
By  Raphael ;  in  the  Hall  of  Saturn 


^> 


>v«^^:l. 


XTbe  t)all  ot  Saturn  175 

oured  burden;  below  are  the  lion  of  St.  Mark  and 
the  ox  of  St.  Luke,  while  the  angel  of  St.  Matthew 
adores  the  Presence.  Two  little  angels  support 
His  outspread  arms;  in  the  amber  clouds  all  about 
are  indications  of  angelic  life  beautifully  expressed. 
Amber  light  is  nowhere  more  perfectly  luminous 
than  on  this  little  wooden  panel  only  thirteen  by 
eighteen  inches.  Ruskin's  words,  "  Raphael  can 
expatiate  within  the  circumference  of  a  platter,'* 
might  be  applied  tO'  this  majestic  atom. 

Some  critics  claim  that  the  Almighty  is  too  rem- 
iniscent of  Jove;  but  any  anthropomorphic  idea  of 
God  leads  to  such  treatment.  Morelli  detects  Giulio 
Romano's  work  here,  and  considers  it  not  Raphael's 
except  in  design;  with  such  a  result,  it  matters 
little.  It  is  worthy  of  Raphael  in  any  case,  and  ap- 
pears in  the  main  extraordinarily  characteristic. 

The  picture  was  executed  for  Count  Vincenzio 
Ercolani  of  Bologna,  about  15 10.  The  French  car- 
ried it  off,  and  when  it  was  returned  in  1815,  it 
was  placed  in  the  Pitti. 

The  portrait  of  Cardinal  Bibiena  is  usually  attrib- 
uted to  Raphael.  He  is  seated,  turned  three-quarter 
face,  in  the  usual  red  and  white  garments  of  ecclesi- 
astical dignitaries,  as  well  as  a  purple  watered  silk 
cape  and  a  red  beretta.  One  hand  lies  on  the  arm 
of  his  chair,  while  the  other  holds  a  paper. 

It  is  claimed  that  this  picture  is  a  copy  of  an 


176        XTbe  Hrt  of  tbe  ipittt  palace 

original  in  Madrid,  which  belonged  to  Balthazar 
Castiglione.  Passavant  is  the  authority  for  this 
statement.  Others  say  that  the  picture  in  Madrid 
represents  another  person.  The  story  is  that 
Raphael  painted  two  portraits  of  Cardinal  Bibiena, 
who  was  a  great  friend  of  his,  and  whose  name  was 
Bernardo  Dovizi.  This  is  one  of  them,  and  the 
other  occurs  in  a  fresco  in  the  Vatican,  where  is 
shown  the  battle  between  the  Saracens  and  the  Ro- 
mans in  the  port  of  Ostia.  This  portrait,  now  in 
the  Pitti,  was  originally  in  possession  of  the  Dovizi 
family  at  Bibiena. 

The  picture  is  virile,  the  hands  being  well  formed 
and  refined,  the  whole  suggesting  a  calculating, 
polished  ecclesiastic.  Crowe  thinks  that  the  head 
is  by  Raphael,  but  that  it  was  finished  by  subordi- 
nates. I  quote  from  his  description  of  it :  "  The 
nose  is  long  and  tending  to  aquiline,  yet  fleshy 
where  it  overhangs  a  large  mouth,  capable  of  vol- 
uble speech  and  mobility.  The  seat  of  power  is 
in  the  face,  in  the  wide  forehead  free  from  hair. 
The  gray-blue  eyes  are  clear  and  open,  yet  sug- 
gestive of  cunning." 

Bernardo  Dovizi  was  born  of  poor  parents  in 
Bibiena,  a  small  town  in  the  Casentino,  a  valley 
behind  Vallombrosa.  Lorenzo  de  Medici  took  an 
interest  in  him  while  he  was  a  youth,  and  brought 
him  to  Florence  under  his  protection.    He  became 


XTbe  Dall  of  Saturn  177 

the  tutor  to  Lorenzo's  sons,  one  of  whom  was  Gio- 
vanni, who  afterwards  became  Pope  Leo  X.  Leo 
created  him  a  cardinal,  and  his  portrait  appears 
with  that  of  his  pontifical  superior  in  Raphael's 
painting  of  Leo's  portrait.  Bernardo  arranged  for 
the  political  intrigues  and  the  pleasures  of  Leo,  and 
was  a  statesman  and  an  author.  The  first  idiomatic 
Italian  drama  is  from  his  pen.  Bibiena  and  Raphael 
were  friends  and  mutual  admirers.  Bernardo  of- 
fered his  niece  to  Raphael  as  a  bride;  but  the  girl 
died,  so  the  project  was  never  carried  out.  There 
are  suspicions  that  he  was  poisoned,  for  he  died 
suddenly  in  Rome  in  1520. 

This  picture  should  be  compared  with  Van  Dyck's 
Portrait  of  Cardinal  Bentivoglio,  also  in  the  Pitti, 
which  is  less  simply  conceived.  This  is  a  more 
intellectual  face,  though  worn  and  sickly. 

Still  another  ecclesiastical  portrait  by  Raphael  is 
Tommaso  Phaedre  Tnghirami.  It  is  generally  sup- 
posed to  be  a  replica,  the  original  being  in  Volterra. 
It  is  on  wood.  Much  repainting  and  cleaning  have 
injured  it.  There  is  a  flat  look  about  the  accesso- 
ries which  suggests  that  the  pupils  had  a  hand  in 
the  work.  Passavant  sees  in  it  a  strong  reminder 
of  the  work  of  Holbein,  but  as  Raphael  could  never 
have  seen  Holbein's  pictures,  this  can  be  only  a 
coincidence.  The  Roman  prelate  is  sitting  at  a 
table,  on  which  are  an  inkstand  and  several  books. 


178         XTbe  Hrt  ot  tbe  ptttt  palace 

He  seems  to  be  in  thought,  ready  to  write  when  the 
inspiration  comes  to  him.  He  holds  a  pen  in  his 
right  hand,  on  the  finger  of  which  is  a  heavy  ring. 
Red  and  green  predominate  in  the  picture.  In- 
ghirami  was  a  distinguished  scholar,  Vatican  libra- 
rian, and  papal  secretary. 

Like  all  cross-eyed  people,  this  man  preferred 
to  be  painted  in  profile;  Raphael  would  not 
quite  give  up  so  characteristic  a  point  in  his  sub- 
ject's face,  so  he  gave  to  the  paralyzed  eye  an 
abstracted  gaze  into  space.  The  whole  face  ex- 
presses intellectual  investigation.  Considering  his 
subject,  corpulent  and  squinting,  Raphael  has  suc- 
ceeded in  making  a  dignified  portrait.  The  face  is 
idealized  by  the  suggestion  of  thoughtfulness,  not 
by  beautifying  or  flattering  the  features.  The  finish 
of  the  painting,  with  its  delicate  glazings,  is  accurate 
and  smooth. 

Tommaso  Inghirami  was  taken  under  the  protec- 
tion of  the  Medici  at  two  years  of  age,  having  lost 
both  parents.  Lorenzo  had  him  educated ;  he  went 
to  Rome  to  study  when  he  was  thirteen.  His  sec- 
ond name  —  Phsedre  —  was  adopted  by  his  friends 
because  of  an  occasion  upon  which  he  exhibited 
great  presence  of  mind.  Seneca's  tragedy,  "  Hippol- 
ytus,"  was  being  acted,  and  Tommaso  was  playing 
the  part  of  Phaedre.  Something  in  the  machinery 
got  suddenly  out  of  order,  and  the  performance  was 


Ube  Iball  ot  Saturn  179 

arrested.  Inghirami  immediately  took  the  stage, 
and  began  reciting  impromptu  Latin  verses,  which 
in  those  days  were  considered  an  acceptable  diver- 
sion, and  he  was  so  much  applauded  that  the  name 
of  Phaedre  clung  to  him.  He  became  ambassador 
to  Maximilian  I.  for  Alexander  VI.  in  1495,  ^^ 
which  time  he  received  the  title  of  Count  Palatine. 
Pope  Julius  II.  made  him  Bishop  of  Ragusa  in  15 10 
and  secretary  at  the  conclave  in  15 13,  when  Gio- 
vanni de  Medici  was  elected  Pope  Leo  X.  Raphael 
has  painted  him  in  the  red  dress  which  he  then  wore. 
He  died  at  Rome,  from  the  effects  of  a  fall,  at  the 
age  of  forty-two.  It  is  not  known  just  when  this 
portrait  came  into  the  Florentine  collection,  but  it 
is  likely  that  Leo  X.  obtained  it  from  Inghirami 
himself. 

"  What  distinguishes  the  whole  work  of  Ra- 
phael,'* says  Symonds,  "  is  its  humanity  in  the 
double  sense  of  the  humane  and  the  human.  He 
will  not  suffer  his  eyes  to  fall  on  what  is  loath- 
some or  horrific.  .  .  .  Even  sadness  and  sorrow, 
tragedy  and  death,  take  loveliness  from  him.  .  .  . 
He  shunned  stern  and  painful  subjects.  .  .  .  His 
men  and  women  are  either  glorious  with  youth  or 
dignified  in  hale  old  age.  Touched  by  his  inno- 
cent and  earnest  genius,  mankind  is  once  more 
gifted  with  the  harmony  of  intellect  and  flesh  and 
feeling  that  belonged  to  Hellas.    Instead  of  asceti- 


i8o        ubc  Hrt  of  tbe  pttt!  ipalace 

cism,  Hellenic  temperance  is  the  virtue  prized  by 
Raphael." 

Mr.  Strachey  says,  in  summing  up  the  genius 
of  the  master,  ''  The  wonder  and  worth  of  the  art 
of  Raphael  seem  to  me  to  rest  upon  his  possessing 
in  a  supreme  degree  the  gifts  of  rhythmic  construc- 
tion and  lyrical  beauty  .  .  .  the  thought  is  ex- 
pressed firstly  by  means  of  a  rhythmic  arrangement 
of  lines  and  spaces,  and  secondly  by  pure  beauty  of 
faces  and  figures."  No  painter  has  ever  appealed 
so  equally  to  intelligent  and  uneducated,  —  to  scholar 
and  to  peasant.     Says  Longfellow: 

"...  Raphael  is  not  dead, 
He  doth  but  sleep  ;  for  how  can  he  be  dead 
Who  lives  immortal  in  the  hearts  of  men  ?  '* 

To  turn  from  Raphael  to  his  master,  let  us 
study  Perugino's  Deposition  which  hangs  here.  It 
is  one  of  his  best  pictures. 

Perugino  was  born  in  1446  or  1447,  at  Castello 
della  Pieve.  There  may  be  said  to  be  only  two 
generations  in  art  between  him  and  Fra  Angelico, 
for  Perugino  was  once  a  pupil  of  Benozzo  Gozzoli, 
and  he  in  turn  was  a  pupil  of  the  Beato  Angelico. 

He  showed  much  dislike  of  mist  or  mystery; 
everything  he  paints  is  in  a  full,  clear  light;  no 
half-tones,  distant  shadows,  or  sudden  lights  to  call 
attention  to  salient  points;   all  is  in  a  glow,  some- 


Zbc  fbnll  of  Saturn  iSi 

times  almost  as  unadulterated  as  Fra  Angelico's. 
Ruskin  says  that  "  no  painter  belonging  to  the  pur- 
est religious  school  ever  mastered  his  art,"  and  then 
he  goes  on  to  say  that  Perugino  comes  nearest  to 
this  mastery,  with  his  lucid,  straightforward  repre- 
sentation of  natural  objects,  treated  nevertheless  in 
a  devotional  spirit.  Vasari  starts  the  scandal  that 
Perugino  was  an  atheist;  but  the  very  fact  that 
he  was  employed  continually  by  Church  dignitaries 
disproves  this  theory.  The  ecclesiastics  were  most 
particular  in  those  days,  and  any  artist  who  did 
not  hold  orthodox  views  would  not  have  been  al- 
lowed to  paint  altar-pieces.  Ruskin  seems  to  be 
most  impressed  with  the  luminous  quality  in  his 
work. 

In  the  painting  of  draperies,  Perugino  had  a  man- 
ner quite  his  own.  Raphael  in  his  early  pictures 
had  acquired  some  of  the  same  style;  the  materials 
fall  in  dark,  hollow  folds,  with  curious  shaped  shad- 
ows and  hood-like  folds.  His  draperies  were  usu- 
ally plain  in  their  texture,  —  no  brocades  were  intro- 
duced, and  no  jewels  or  embroideries;  ornament 
is  supplied  by  delicate  patterns  running  along  the 
edges  of  robes,  or  in  little  spots  of  gold  or  colour. 
Gold  he  used  quite  freely,  even  hatching  the  lights 
occasionally  with  it,  as  the  early  masters  had  done. 
He  introduced  gold  often  in  the  lights  of  hair  and 
in  foliage. 


i82        XTbe  Btt  of  tbe  pfttt  palace 

In  his  pictures  painted  before  1500,  Perugino 
used  hatching  in  shading  his  faces;  after  that  pe- 
riod, he  employed  it  also  in  other  textures.  This 
is  partly  due  to  the  difficulty  of  shading  with  tem- 
pera painting;  the  yolk  of  egg  being  the  vehicle, 
it  is  impossible  to  model  it  as  if  it  were  oil  paint; 
it  must  lie  as  first  applied,  therefore  it  helps  in  the 
effect  of  shadow  to  introduce  the  fine  lines  of  hatch- 
ing as  a  blending  for  the  colours.  Occasionally  he 
undoubtedly  used  oil;  but  a  part  of  his  pictures  is 
always  in  tempera. 

A  story  is  told  of  how  Perugino  read  a  lesson  to 
a  very  mean-spirited  prior  of  the  cloister  of  the 
Ingesuati,  where  the  artist  was  working.  As  ultra- 
marine was  an  extremely  expensive  colour,  it  was 
generally  stipulated  that  the  person  who  ordered 
the  picture  should  supply  the  ultramarine,  so  that 
the  artist  should  not  be  put  to  such  heavy  expense. 
This  particular  old  prior  was  for  ever  watching  and 
peering  about  to  see  if  Perugino  was  using  too  much 
ultramarine.  The  painter  was  amused  at  his  dis- 
trust, and  repaid  it  in  a  way  which  must  have  been 
very  humiliating  to  the  prior.  He  took  occasion  to 
wash  his  brush  unduly  often,  so  that  the  ultramarine 
was  precipitated  into  the  water,  —  even  more  went 
that  way  than  was  put  on  the  picture.  When  he 
had  finished,  he  drained  off  the  water,  and,  scraping 
up  the  powder  at  the  bottom,  he  presented  it  to  the 


Uhc  t)aU  of  Saturn  183 

suspicious  prior,  saying :  "  This  belongs  to  you, 
father;  learn  to  trust  honest  men,  for  such  never 
deceive  those  who  confide  in  them,  though  they  well 
know  how  to  circumvent  distrustful  persons  like 
yourself  if  they  desire  to  do  so." 

The  beauty  of  the  landscape  backgrounds  of 
Perugino  can  hardly  be  appreciated  unless  one  has 
seen  the  country  of  Umbria.  Then  only  can  one 
know  how  absolutely  true  are  his  delightful  valleys, 
enchanting  vistas,  rolling  distances,  with  several 
little  towns  visible  at  once  in  various  places,  —  forti- 
fied towns  capping  hills,  approached  by  winding 
white  roads.  If  one  has  stood  in  the  monastery  at 
Assisi  and  looked  off  over  the  plain,  one  can  under- 
stand how  all  these  things  may  be  visible  at  once. 
Otherwise  the  landscape  might  seem  artificial.  In- 
finite distance,  such  as  one  could  really  see  in  so 
clear  a  light  as  Perugino  depicts,  is  here  to  be  seen. 
The  domestic,  quiet,  romantic  country-side  in  which 
he  was  reared  gave  him  his  idea  of  backgrounds 
for  religious  pictures. 

Painted  about  1496,  Perugino's  Deposition  is  one 
of  his  masterpieces,  wrought  at  the  time  when  he 
was  in  the  flower  of  his  genius.  The  space  is  filled 
in  the  most  unobtrusive  and  yet  the  most  perfect 
manner.  The  sense  of  immeasurable  distance  is 
felt  in  the  background,  which  is  one  of  the  lovely 
landscapes  for  which   Perugino  is  justly  famous. 


i84        tTbc  Hrt  of  tbe  Ipittti  palace 

Both  as  a  filling  of  the  immediate  foreground  and  as 
a  suggestion  of  vastness  in  the  treatment  of  the  dis- 
tance, it  is  unrivalled.  The  faces  have  serenity  of 
beauty.  The  treatment  of  the  body  of  Our  Lord 
is  specially  worthy  of  attention,  being  the  drawing 
of  a  distinctly  inanimate  body,  and  yet  showing 
that  flexible  heavy  weight  characteristic  of  the  dead. 
The  expressions  of  all  the  faces  are  studies  of  a 
refined  type  of  restrained  grief  in  different  phases. 
None  of  the  figures  exhibit  exactly  the  same  emo- 
tions, and  yet  all  are  united  in  their  feeling;  the 
persons  in  the  group  are  dominated  by  the  central 
figure.  The  group  is  somewhat  passive;  it  is  per- 
haps too  perfect  and  academic  a  composition  to  be 
within  the  range  of  actual  experience,  but  it  is 
thoughtful,  and  religious  in  the  quiet  way  in  which 
Perugino  is  usually  religious.  There  is  none  of 
the  fire  of  conversion  nor  of  the  divine  ecstasy  of 
revelation  in  any  of  his  work.  His  figures  never 
have  such  action  as  those  of  Raphael  (especially  the 
Raphael  of  Rome),  but  here  is  a  quiet  brooding 
repose  which  must  have  been  restful  in  the  strenu- 
ous life  of  fifteenth  century  Florence.  The  balance 
and  harmony  of  the  grouping  is  more  noticeable 
than  its  action.  "  The  expression  of  heart-stricken 
sorrow,"  says  Woltmann,  "  is  carried  out  by  the 
sentiment  of  the  landscape,  which  is  exquisitely 
painted."    This  picture  has  not  the  intensity  of  the 


Ube  Iball  ot  Saturn  185 

Entombment  of  Fra  Bartolommeo,  but  is  the  legiti- 
mate forerunner  of  that  work. 

The  Saviour's  body  is  sustained  by  Joseph  of 
Arimathea.  The  Magdalen  supports  his  head.  The 
Virgin  mother  is  in  the  centre  of  the  picture,  crouch- 
ing somewhat,  —  reaching  forward  with  an  expres- 
sion too  deep  for  words,  taking  the  hand  of  her 
dead  son,  and  gazing  into  his  face.  Over  their 
heads  in  the  centre  (for  one  is  tempted  to  treat  this 
picture  primarily  as  a  composition),  the  pyramidal 
form  is  secured  by  introducing  the  heads  of  Mary 
Salome  and  Mary  Cleophas,  one  kneeling  and  the 
other  standing  with  upraised  hands  and  bent  head. 
The  head  of  Mary,  the  wife  of  Cleophas,  is  perhaps 
one  of  the  finest  drawings  ever  made  by  Perugino. 
At  the  right  Nicodemus,  clad  in  green  and  yellow 
tones,  with  a  turban  on  his  head,  is  holding  the 
lower  part  of  the  shroud,  evidently  having  been 
the  one  to  bear  the  feet  of  the  Saviour;  St.  John 
and  the  wife  of  Zebedee  are  seen  on  the  left,  and 
on  the  extreme  right  are  three  figures ;  one,  an 
older  man,  is  showing  the  nails  of  the  Passion  to 
two  younger  persons.  One  of  these  is  a  lovely 
figure,  but  shows  too  little  interest  in  the  subject, 
—  it  is  the  only  figure  in  the  picture  in  which  the 
eyes  stray  to  the  spectator,  and  whose  hands  are 
crossed  carelessly,  as  if  posing  for  a  portrait. 

We  have  chosen  the  head  of  Mary,  the  wife  of 


i86        Zbc  Hrt  ot  tbe  iptttt  palace 

Cleophas,  to  present  in  this  book,  instead  of  show- 
ing the  entire  picture,  because  it  exhibits  in  a  re- 
markable degree  Perugino's  skill  in  drawing  and 
foreshortening.  In  this  detail  it  is  possible  to  trace 
the  fine  lines  of  the  hatching,  which  are  so  char- 
acteristic of  his  style.  It  is  as  significant  an  ex- 
ample of  the  best  features  of  his  work  as  could  be 
selected. 

The  picture  was  painted  for  the  nuns  of  Santa 
Chiara.  This  subject  is  usually  called  in  art  a 
Pieta.  There  was  a  rich  Florentine  merchant,  one 
Francesco  Pugliese,  who  offered  the  nuns  three 
times  the  original  cost  if  they  would  sell  it  to  him; 
he  also  promised  them  a  replica  by  the  hand  of 
the  same  artist;  but  they  rejected  his  offer,  for 
Perugino  admitted  that  he  was  not  confident  that 
he  could  ever  reproduce  the  picture.  After  the  sup- 
pression of  the  Convent  of  Santa  Chiara,  this  pic- 
ture went  first  to  the  Academy,  and  then,  under 
the  order  of  the  French  Commission,  it  was  brought 
to  the  Pitti. 

One  of  the  finest  of  Andrea  del  Sarto's  pictures, 
and  among  the  most  celebrated,  is  the  Dispute  of 
the  Holy  Trinity,  or  "  The  Disputa."  It  was 
painted  for  the  monks  of  San  Gallo  early  in  1518. 
It  has  passed  through  many  vicissitudes.  The 
church  was  destroyed  during  the  siege  of  Florence, 
in  1529,  and  the  picture  was  sent  to  San  Giovanni 


HEAD    OF    MARY    CLEOPHAS 
Detail  from  the  Deposition,  by  Perugino ;  in  the  Hall  of  Saturn 


n: 


v\ 


»#*1>1.». 


TLbc  Iball  ot  Saturn  187 

tra'  Fossi.  Then  the  flood  of  the  Arno  in  1555  rose 
to  such  a  height  in  this  building  that  the  picture 
was  badly  soaked,  and  still  shows  evidence  of  this 
fact.  In  the  seventeenth  century  it  came  to  the 
Pitti  Palace.  Crowe  and  Cavalcaselle  speak  of  it 
in  terms  of  great  appreciation :  "  In  order  to  show 
that  he  was  at  home  in  every  mood,  he  accepted  a 
commission  from  the  monks  of  San  Gallo,  and 
thought  out  the  noble  altar-piece  of  the  fathers  dis- 
puting on  the  doctrine  of  the  Trinity,  in  every  line 
of  which  stern  power  and  boldness  are  discerned. 
Yet  as  usual  there  are  abundance  of  the  atmosphere 
and  vapour  which  are  now  his  peculiar  characteris- 
tics .  .  .  the  attitudes  are  grandiose;  the  forms 
are  well-proportioned,  weighty,  and  nobly  draped." 

Andrea  here  shows  his  intellectual  power  more, 
perhaps,  than  in  any  other  of  his  works.  The  group 
exhibits  attitudes  and  expressions  admirably  con- 
trasted, and  is  full  of  dignified  action.  It  shows 
the  four  saints  who  are  indulging  in  this  theological 
discussion  standing,  while  at  their  feet  sit  St.  Se- 
bastian and  the  Magdalen.  In  the  heavens  there  is 
seen  a  vision  of  the  Creator,  shrouded  in  a  red  robe, 
sustaining  the  figure  of  Christ  upon  the  cross,  typi- 
fying the  eternity  of  the  fact  of  the  Trinity,  al- 
though disciples  may  disagree  as  to  the  interpre- 
tation of  the  doctrine. 

Indeed  the  varying  interpretations  of  the  doctrine 


i88        Ube  art  of  tbe  I&tttt  ipalace 

form  the  subject  of  the  picture.  Observe  of  what 
diverse  types  are  the  saints  selected,  and  to  what 
different  epochs  they  belong.  St.  Augustine,  the 
father  of  the  theology  of  the  Latin  Church,  stands 
at  the  left  of  the  picture,  evidently  expounding  his 
views  to  St.  Peter  Martyr,  who,  the  third  figure 
in  the  group,  stands  with  an  open  book  and  a  deter- 
mined expression  on  his  face,  awaiting  his  turn  to 
make  reply.  Peter  Martyr  is  dressed  in  the  Do- 
minican habit.  Next  him  stands  at  the  extreme 
right,  St.  Francis  of  Assisi,  with  his  hand  on  his 
heart,  so  that  the  stigmata  may  be  seen.  The  other 
figures  are  St.  Lawrence  with  the  terrible  emblem 
of  his  martyrdom,  the  gridiron.  St.  Sebastian 
kneels,  facing  the  disputants,  and  Mary  Magdalen, 
crouching  at  the  feet  of  St.  Francis,  holds  the  box 
of  spikenard  with  which  she  so  often  appears.  As 
the  picture  was  painted  for  the  Augustine  friars,  it 
is  natural  that  Andrea  should  have  chosen  the  mo- 
ment for  representation  when  Augustine  was  ap- 
parently confounding  his  opponents.  The  intro- 
duction of  the  three  saints  who  are  not  taking  part 
in  the  argument  illustrates  the  fact  of  the  right 
which  the  Augustines  assumed  to  include  within 
their  order  all  saints  between  the  first  and  sixth 
centuries.  Thus  the  figures  of  St.  Lawrence,  St. 
Sebastian,  and  the  Magdalen  are  to  be  considered 


DISPUTA 
By  Andrea  del  Sarto  ;  in  the  Hall  of  Saturn 


# 


^S 


vV 


tx^ 


Uhc  Dall  of  Saturn  1S9 

as  complementary  to  St.  Augustine  in  this  composi- 
tion. 

There  are  very  few  symbols  in  the  picture,  but 
each  saint  is  distinguished  in  some  way.  St.  Au- 
gustine was  Bishop  of  Hippo  from  395  to  430  a.  d., 
so  he  carries  as  his  emblem  the  crozier.  St.  Au- 
gustine, as  is  well  known,  was  the  author  of  the 
"  City  of  God,"  and  wrote  also  his  ''  Confessions  " 
after  his  conversion,  for  his  youth  was  one  of  dissi- 
pation and  waywardness. 

St.  Peter  Martyr  was  a  powerful  and  influential 
preacher,  and  no  artist  has  ever  drawn  a  more  dig- 
nified and  majestic  presentment  of  him  than  this 
figure,  which  stands  holding  an  open  book.  His 
noble  head  is  disfigured  by  the  gash  which  is  the 
sign  of  the  death  which  he  suffered.  While  he  was 
inquisitor  general  under  Pope  Honorius  HI.,  he 
had  made  many  powerful  enemies  among  certain 
Venetian  grandees,  whom  he  had  delivered  up  to 
justice  without  any  consideration  of  their  rank 
(which  was  too  often  a  protection  for  lawlessness). 
Two  of  these  noblemen  determined  to  have  him 
put  to  death.  So  they  hired  assassins  to  waylay 
him  between  Como  and  Milan,  where  he  was  obliged 
to  pass  through  a  wood.  They  struck  him  on  the 
head  with  an  axe;  the  blow  felled  him  to  the 
ground,  and  they  then  turned  their  attention  to 
the    lay    brother    who    accompanied    him.      They 


I90         Ube  Brt  ot  tbe  ipitti  ipalace 

stabbed  this  companion,  and,  returning,  found  Peter 
Martyr,  who  had  struggled  to  his  feet,  repeating 
the  Creed,  and  they  finished  their  work  with  the 
sword.     Innocent  IV.  canonized  him  in  1253. 

St.  Francis  Assisi  was  much  more  pacific  than 
Peter  Martyr,  and  the  contrast  between  the  two 
figures  is  well  maintained,  for  St.  Francis's  face 
wears  a  puzzled  expression,  as  if  he  would  rather 
leave  the  whole  question  in  peace,  and  go  on  with 
his  own  meditations  and  good  works. 

St.  Lawrence  is  clothed  in  a  red  dalmatic,  and 
has  somewhat  of  a  portrait  pose ;  he  does  not  appear 
much  concerned;  possibly  he  has  discovered  that 
differences  of  doctrinal  opinion  are  non-essentials 
in  the  life  of  a  true  Christian. 

St.  Sebastian  seems  to  have  been  introduced 
largely  as  a  graceful  bit  of  flesh-painting,  and  to 
assist  the  general  composition. 

The  Magdalen,  dressed  in  shades  of  red,  is  a 
portrait  of  the  artist's  wife,  and  this  profile  is  a 
particularly  fine  piece  of  anatomical  delineation. 
The  hands  of  all  the  figures  deserve  special  atten- 
tion. Probably  no  one  ever  drew  hands  more  fault- 
lessly than  did  Del  Sarto. 

This  picture  is  full  of  thought  and  an  intimate 
knowledge  of  the  characters  of  each  of  the  persons 
represented.  "  The  master's  delicious  atmosphere," 
says  Woltmann,  "  is  already  conspicuous,  but  still 


Ube  Iball  ot  Saturn  191 

combined  in  a  very  remarkable  manner  with  a  fine 
clear  outline."  Much  genuine  study  should  be  de- 
voted to  the  true  understanding  of  this  incompara- 
bly fine  work. 

Although  the  little  head,  Number  153,  is  the  only 
Correggio  in  the  gallery,  it  is  characteristic,  and  has 
the  luminous  glow  of  the  artist's  touch.  Correggio 
was  essentially  Greek  by  nature.  He  is  like  Sappho 
in  the  poetic  quality  O'f  his  mind.  He  was  a 
lyric  artist  of  light  and  shade,  —  not  a  great  in- 
ventor or  a  great  designer  or  a  deep  thinker,  but 
the  painter  of  joyful,  soaring  freedom,  sweet,  pure 
ecstasy,  and  innocent  paganism.  He  was  born  in 
an  obscure  little  town  named  Correggio  in  1494;  his 
baptismal  name  being  Antonio  Allegri.  He  stands 
like  a  Greek,  neither  immoral  nor  moral;  neither 
religious  nor  scoffing;  simply  a  pagan,  with  the 
joy  of  living  in  his  veins.  His  beings  are  rapturous 
and  beautiful,  hardly  to  be  called  sensuous,  so  un- 
conscious are  they  of  their  own  loveliness.  His 
angels  are  rollicking  cherubs  perhaps,  but  they  have 
no  arrows  and  carry  no  quiver.  There  is  nothing 
of  the  earthy  about  them.  They  are  literally  spirits 
of  the  air,  hovering  about  as  Ariel  hovered,  and  no 
more  to  be  judged  by  either  mediaeval  or  modern 
standards  than  he  is. 

These  angels  are  the  really  typical  features  of 
Correggio's  work.     Of  course  he  painted  religious 


192        Ube  Hrt  of  tbe  ptttt  palace 

scenes  and  other  subjects,  but  his  floating  denizens 
of  the  heavens  are  his  own  creations,  and  they  are 
worthy. 

In  an  appreciation  of  Correggio,  Mr.  G.  B.  Rose 
says :  "  Raphael's  beauty  is  a  kind  that  cannot  be 
divorced  from  actual  goodness;  Correggio's  is 
neither  good  nor  evil,  but  simply  innocent  and 
glad."  Of  course  the  Church  of  the  sixteenth  cen- 
tury did  not  appeal  to  his  free  sylvan  nature,  but 
there  is  no  suggestion  that  it  failed  to  inspire  him 
with  respect. 

The  sweet  angel's  head  in  the  Pitti  is  a  good  ex- 
ample of  the  style  of  this  unique  master,  but  it  is 
to  be  regretted  that  there  are  no  more  important 
works  of  his  with  which  it  might  be  compared. 

A  fascinating,  cheerful  Venetian  picture  is  always 
refreshing.  Giorgione's  Nymph  and  Satyr,  Num- 
ber 147,  is  one  which  is  thoroughly  sylvan,  joyous, 
and  agreeable.  Popular  usage  has  sanctioned  the 
expression  "  golden  light "  as  applied  to  Titian, 
"  silver  light "  when  describing  Paul  Veronese,  and 
"  internal  light "  as  characteristic  of  Giorgione. 

Giorgione  was  born  in  one  of  the  most  romantic 
spots  in  the  world,  Castelfranco,  about  1477.  In  his 
pictures  we  may  see  the  spell  which  the  magnificent 
natural  beauties  of  his  early  home  laid  upon  his 
spirit.  He  was  unique  in  his  power  of  painting 
landscape.     He  is  a  thoroughly  picturesque  figure 


Ube  1baU  ot  Saturn  193 

himself,  with  a  rare  combination  of  talents,  singing 
divinely,  and  playing  upon  the  lute  so  that  nobles 
vied  with  each  other  to  have  him  perform  at  their 
concerts.  The  spirit  of  harmony  and  gladness  per- 
vades his  work;  he  was  the  first  great  Venetian 
of  the  Renaissance,  for  his  master,  Gian  Bellini, 
was  still  mediaeval  in  his  spirit.  Giorgione  stands 
as  the  great  link  between  the  old  smooth  school 
and  the  later  glowing  haze  of  Titian,  Veronese,  and 
Tintoret.  He  lived  to  be  only  thirty-six,  dying  of 
the  plague  in  151 1. 

Giorgione  was  an  intellectual  painter.  He  de- 
lighted in  allegory  and  legend;  he  enjoyed  dream- 
ing in  colour,  combining  the  mythical  romance  of 
subject  with  the  poetical  suggestiveness  of  his  col- 
ouring and  treatment.  Vasari  tells  of  a  whimsical 
conceit  which  he  once  employed  in  order  to  paint, 
as  he  had  declared  that  he  could  do,  a  nude  study 
in  such  a  way  that  the  back,  front,  and  both  profile 
views  should  be  visible  at  once.  In  order  to  ac- 
complish his  purpose,  he  painted  the  nude  figure 
standing  with  its  back  to  the  spectator  on  the  bank 
of  a  limpid  stream;  in  the  water  was  reflected  the 
front  view  of  the  same  figure.  On  one  side  was 
the  burnished  corselet,  which  the  knight  was  sup- 
posed to  have  taken  off,  and  in  this  was  reflected  a 
profile  view  of  his  figure,  and  on  the  other  side 
his  other  profile  was  seen  in  a  mirror. 


194        Ube  art  ot  tbe  pittt  ©alace 

He  painted  flesh  in  a  delightful  manner,  with  no 
suggestion  of  sensuality,  yet  without  the  developed 
monumental  feeling  which  characterized  the  later 
work  of  Tintoretto,  whose  women  are  no  more  nude 
than  Greek  statues.  Giorgione  is  a  sympathetic 
human  and  imaginative  artist,  —  for  the  normal 
human  being  has  imagination,  and  it  is  no  more 
characteristic  of  human  nature  to  degrade  and  bru- 
talize a  subject  than  to  idealize  it. 

The  nymph  is  a  lovely  creature,  seen  to  the  waist, 
with  the  satyr  immediately  behind  her.  The  picture 
is  usually  called  A  Nymph  Pursued  by  a  Satyr, 
but  her  attitude  does  not  suggest  flight,  and  her  ex- 
pression is  quite  happy.  She  is  clothed  in  leopard 
skins,  one  shoulder  being  covered  and  one  bare. 
Her  luxuriant  hair  falls  about  her,  and  there  is  a 
general  air  of  spring  and  gladness  throughout  the 
composition. 

A  curious  picture.  Number  148,  is  called  the 
"  Bambocciata,"  which  means  a  caricature.  It  looks 
like  a  fancy-dress  party,  or  a  dinner  served  to  the 
court  retainers,  such  as  the  dwarf,  jester,  singing- 
girls  and  the  like.  It  gives  a  very  poor  idea  of 
the  real  power  of  its  painter,  Dosso  Dossi,  for  it 
is  a  crowded,  stiff,  hard  piece  of  work;  but  there 
are  details  about  it  which  are  amusing,  and  it  is 
worth  noticing.  Undoubtedly  it  is  an  early  work, 
accomplished  before  Dossi   had  attained   his  final 


Ube  Iball  of  Saturn  19s 

manner.  At  the  left,  partly  nude,  sits  a  dwarf,  with 
a  crown  of  leaves;  he  may  be  intended  as  a  cari- 
cature of  Bacchus.  Close  about  are  the  other  fig- 
ures, two  women,  dressed  in  a  gaudy  and  wanton 
manner,  and  a  jester  with  his  bauble;  on  the  mosaic 
top  of  the  table  is  seen  a  tambourine,  and  one  of 
the  figures  in  the  background  carries  a  bird.  They 
are  all  laughing  in  an  abandoned  mood.  One  of 
them  holds  a  little  dog. 

The  portrait.  Number  149,  representing  Ippolito 
de  Medici,  was  painted  by  Pontormo.  Ippolito  de 
Medici  was  the  natural  son  of  Giulio  de  Medici,  and 
a  favourite  of  his  uncle.  Pope  Leo  X.  His  escapades 
in  Hungary  will  be  alluded  to  when  we  study  his 
portrait  by  Titian  in  the  next  room.  He  was,  in 
spite  of  his  ad\^enturous  tastes,  made  a  cardinal. 
He  died  in  1535  at  Itri.  This  portrait  shows  him 
full  face,  with  short  hair,  black  beard  and  mous- 
tache, wearing  a  sword;  one  hand  rests  upon  a 
table,  and  the  other  is  laid  upon  the  neck  of  a  dog. 

Van  Dyck's  twin  portraits  of  Charles  I.  and  Hen- 
rietta Maria  hang  here;  both  are  familiar  to  all 
students  of  history.  Whatever  may  be  one's  judg- 
ment concerning  Charles  I.,  he  will  always  be  reck- 
oned one  of  the  most  pathetic  figures  in  English 
history.  His  portrait  always  recalls  the  sensitive, 
refined  man,  full  of  prejudice,  with  a  touch  of  mystic 
fanaticism,  who  was  compelled  by  his  inheritance  to 


196        XTbe  Hrt  ot  tbe  iptttt  palace 

deal  with  supreme  questions  of  state  requiring  bold- 
ness, sincerity,  and  wisdom.  His  portraits  always 
present,  as  this  one  does,  the  amiable  and  delicate 
features  of  an  aristocrat,  elegant  in  manner,  but 
without  force. 

The  next  is  Carlo  Dolci's  Santa  Rosa.  She  is 
represented  in  the  habit  of  the  third  order  of  St. 
Francis,  and  is  crowned  with  a  wreath  of  roses. 
Santa  Rosa  of  Viterbo  was  a  thirteenth  century 
saint,  and  spent  her  life  in  deeds  of  charity.  While 
she  lived,  she  was  the  guardian  of  the  people  of 
Viterbo,  and  after  her  death  became  their  patron 
saint.  She  was  celebrated  for  her  eloquence.  The 
picture  is  on  wood,  and  was  painted  in  1668. 

Schiavone's  large  canvas  representing  Cain  kill- 
ing Abel  occupies  the  centre  of  one  side  of  the  room. 
It  is  an  unusual  composition.  The  two  figures, 
necessarily  in  extremely  active  attitudes,  fill  the 
whole  space;  the  upraised  arm  of  Cain  reaches  the 
frame  at  the  top  of  the  picture,  while  the  elbow  of 
the  fallen  Abel  reaches  the  lower  edge  of  the  pic- 
ture. Thus,  literally,  the  arms  of  the  two  mai, 
meeting  in  the  centre  of  the  picture,  form  an  un- 
broken link  from  top  to  bottom  of  the  entire  space. 
Cain  is  towering  over  his  brother,  who  lies  on  the 
ground,  fighting  for  life.  The  picture  is  spirited, 
and  is  a  good  drawing  of  muscular  brute  force,  dis- 
playing itself  in  both  figures.     The  background  is 


pim\^^ 


^^ 


mi 


V)lH'^« 


oxW 


ur 


"oL-  N. 


Ubc  *aU  of  Saturn  197 

a  dark  landscape  with  a  luminous  stretch  of  sky- 
visible  between  the  bushes. 

One  of  Carlo  Dolci's  least  affected  pictures  is  the 
little  St.  John  asleep,  Number  154.  The  child  lies 
in  unconscious  relaxation.  Although  the  finish  is 
smooth,  it  would  be  difficult  for  any  one  to  paint 
a  more  perfect  representation  of  a  sleeping  child. 
The  attitude  is  natural,  and  the  expression  of  the 
face  indicative  of  some  dream  which  brings  a  trou- 
bled look  to  his  little  brow.  He  lies  upon  his  cross, 
the  insignia  which  the  young  St.  John  usually  car- 
ries, and  his  mother,  beholding  him  thus,  is  praying 
beside  him,  her  face  betokening  a  forecast  of  dread 
for  his  future.  As  the  Madonna  is  often  repre- 
sented as  sorrowing  in  anticipation  over  the  child, 
so  St.  Elizabeth  is  here  shown  as  beholding  the 
vision  of  all  the  pain  that  is  to  come. 

Carlo  Dolci,  born  in  Florence  May  25,  1616,  died 
there  January  17,  1686.  He  studied  with  Jacopo 
Vignole,  a  prolific  though  careful  painter.  His  pic- 
tures are  marred  by  affectation  of  religious  feeling 
and  cloying  sweetness.  Charles  Blanc  calls  him  a 
true  representative  of  Jesuitical  art.  The  tones  of 
his  colouring  are  soft  and  harmonious.  He  was 
the  last  of  the  Florentine  school.  Among  his  best 
works  are  the  Martyrdom  of  St.  Andrew,  the  Sleep- 
ing St.  John,  Christ  in  the  Garden,  and  St.  Peter 
Weeping. 


198         XTbe  Hrt  of  tbe  ptttt  palace 

His  paintings  were  chiefly  the  heads  of  the  Sa- 
viour or  the  Madonna,  and  the  saints.  His  manner 
of  working  was  very  slow,  and  it  is  said  that  his 
brain  was  affected  by  seeing  Luca  Giordano  pro- 
duce more  work  in  four  or  five  hours  than  he  could 
have  accomplished  in  as  many  months.  His  pic- 
tures have  been  so  successfully  copied  that  it  is  said 
that  there  are  more  works  attributed  to  him  in  the 
galleries  of  Europe  than  he  could  have  painted  if 
he  had  done  one  every  day  of  his  life. 

The  Madonna  della  Rondinella,  or  the  Madonna 
of  the  Swallow,  by  Guercino,  is  in  the  best  style 
of  this  painter.  The  Virgin  sits  in  the  clouds,  in 
a  slightly  uncomfortable  attitude,  being  so  fore- 
shortened that  the  child  on  her  knee  is  almost  on 
a  level  with  her  own  face.  The  child,  however,  is 
charming.  He  extends  one  chubby  hand,  on  which 
perches  a  little  swallow.  He  is  watching  the  bird 
lovingly,  and  with  his  head  on  one  side  in  a  grace- 
ful and  infantile  attitude.  The  silhouette  of  his 
little  shoulder  against  the  neck  of  the  mother  is 
very  pretty.  At  the  right  is  an  adoring  angel,  a 
most  lovely  type  of  spiritual  and  intellectual  being. 
The  Virgin  is  beautiful;  the  nose  is  rather  irreg- 
ular, and  for  that  reason  not  too  ideal  to  be  strictly 
human.  Her  hair  is  arranged  in  a  careless  yet  be- 
coming manner,  bound  at  the  back  with  fillets  and 
parted  in  thick  waves  on  the  brow.    There  is  lumi- 


TTbe  f)all  ot  Saturn  199 

nosity  throughout  the  whole  atmosphere  of  the  pic- 
ture, and  a  Httle  of  the  haze  and  glow  of  Murillo. 
Every  line  is  soft  and  every  detail  is  restful.  It  is 
numbered  156. 

Fra  Bartolommeo's  Risen  Christ  with  Evangelists 
is  a  picture  in  the  combined  symbolic  and  realistic 
manner  of  this  artist.  On  a  pedestal  in  a  niche 
Jesus  is  standing,  his  right  arm  raised  on  high, 
and  in  the  left  hand  carrying  a  staff  with  a  ball  and 
cross,  his  body  being  draped  in  white.  On  either 
side  of  him,  on  a  lower  plane,  the  four  Evangelists 
are  grouped;  St.  Luke  and  St.  Mark  on  the  right, 
St.  John  and  St.  Matthew  on  the  left.  These  are 
heavy,  powerful  figures,  well  painted  in  an  old 
school;   the  colour  is  subdued  but  strong. 

An  emblematic  group,  consisting  of  two  angel 
children,  occupies  the  foreground ;  they  are  seated  on 
a  step,  holding  a  circular  device  on  which  appears 
a  landscape;  above  this  is  a  small  tablet  bearing 
the  inscription,  "  Salvator  M  V  D  "  and  above  is  a 
chalice.  The  picture  is  signed  "  Bartolomeus  C.  C, 
pinxit.,  1 5 16." 

The  two  great  figures  of  Isaiah  and  Job,  which 
are  now  in  the  Uffizi,  were  originally  the  side  panels 
to  this  composition,  which  was  on  a  very  grand 
scale.  There  may  be  traced  a  certain  influence  from 
Michelangelo  in  the  drawing  and  proportions  of  the 
figures. 


200         XTbc  Hrt  ot  tbe  Ipttti  ipialace 

The  Moses  of  Giorgione,  Number  i6i,  is  a  long 
panel,  divided  into  separate  scenes.  At  the  left  is 
seen  the  finding  of  Moses  in  his  little  cradle,  which 
is  like  a  tiny  coffin,  on  the  shores  of  the  river.  Two 
women  are  stooping  over  the  bank  hooking  it  ashore 
by  a  stick.  A  tree  divides  the  composition,  distin- 
guishing this  from  the  next  scene,  which  represents 
the  exhibition  of  the  infant  in  his  cradle  at  the  court. 
All  the  costumes  and  types  are  strictly  Venetian, 
and  it  is  amusing  to  see  these  Venetian  grandees 
bending  eagerly  over  the  casket,  examining  the 
child.  They  wear  top-boots,  mantles,  fur-collars, 
and  other  adornments.  A  little  dog  is  jumping  up 
to  view  the  new  acquisition,  and  two  little  boys  are 
hurring  up  for  a  peep.  At  the  right  is  an  or- 
chestra of  musicians  playing  on  bass-viol  and  lute, 
while  a  man  is  serving  wine,  perhaps  to  drink  the 
health  of  the  little  stranger.  The  figures  are  small 
and  serve  their  purpose  as  simple  decoration.  They 
are  not  accurate  studies,  but  are  minutely  finished, 
and  evidently  intended  for  the  ornamentation  of 
some  piece  of  furniture.  Morelli  gives  the  picture 
to  Bonifazio. 

There  are  three  Annunciations  by  Del  Sarto  in  the 
Pitti  Palace.  This  one,  Number  163,  is  painted  on  a 
long,  narrow  panel,  horizontally  disposed.  The  Vir- 
gin starts  back  in  terror  and  surprise  at  the  appari- 
tion of  the  angel,  who  kneels  before  her  at  the  oppo- 


XTbe  Iball  ot  Saturn  201 

site  side  of  the  panel.  On  the  sill  of  the  window  there 
is  a  vase  of  flowers,  and  the  angel  carries  a  lily. 
Two  portieres  are  looped  back  at  the  upper  comers, 
suggesting  that  the  scene  occurs  on  a  loggia.  There 
are  no  other  accessories.  It  was  painted  for  Julian 
della  Scala. 

A  cheerful  little  panel  is  Giulio  Romano's  Dance 
of  Apollo  and  the  Muses.  It  was  evidently  designed 
as  a  cover  to  a  clavichord.  It  is  literally  a  wreath 
of  graceful  figures,  engaged  in  a  sprightly  dance, 
their  hands  joined  and  their  lips  parted  in  song. 

Adam  and  Eve  are  painted  by  Campagnola  as  rest- 
ing on  the  ground.  A  little  hut  is  seen  in  the  back- 
ground ;  and  on  their  right  is  a  lion,  while  on  their 
left  appears  the  inoffensive  face  of  an  ox;  they  are 
reclining  in  graceful  attitudes  conversing  under  the 
fruit-tree.  At  the  feet  of  Eve  lies  a  human  skull. 
It  is  a  matter  of  conjecture  how  they  came  by  this 
relic,  they  being  the  first  human  beings,  and  Cain 
not  yet  having  manifested  his  fratricidal  propensities. 
Domenico  Campagnola  was  an  artist  of  the  Venetian 
school,  one  of  the  many  of  whom  Titian  is  said  to 
have  been  jealous.  Lanzi  speaks  of  his  style  in  the 
following  drastic  terms :  "  He  seems  to  have  aspired 
to  a  vastness  of  design  beyond  that  of  Titian,  and  to 
mark  the  naked  parts  with  a  more  evident  degree 
of  artifice." 

One  of  the  most  celebrated  pictures  in  the  palace 


202        XTbe  Brt  ot  tbe  ptttf  palace 

is  Fra  Sebastiano  del  Piombo's  Martyrdom  of  St. 
Agatha.  The  flesh  tints  are  extremely  warm  and 
rich ;  and  the  picture  ranks  among  the  most  beauti- 
ful specimens  of  Renaissance  art.  The  figure  of 
the  saint  is  noble  and  grand ;  the  differentiation  be- 
tween the  tints  of  her  creamy  flesh  and  the  swarthy 
faces  of  the  executioners  is  striking. 

Sche^el,  in  his  "^Esthetic  Works,"  makes  an 
exhaustive  and  scholarly  analysis  of  this  picture. 
"  How  can  a  subject  so  horrible  form  a  beautiful 
painting?"  he  asks;  continuing,  **  Indeed  I  have 
seen  many  spectators  turn  away  shuddering  after 
the  first  glance,  and  blame  the  artist  for  his  selec- 
tion of  such  a  subject,  and  yet  the  very  same  per- 
sons have  stood  in  pleased  astonishment  before  the 
Martyrdom  of  St.  Agnes  by  Domenichino,  or 
have  gazed  on  the  Massacre  of  the  Innocents,  by 
Guido,  without  turning  away  from  the  confused 
heaps  of  dead  bodies."  Both  of  the  pictures  here 
cited  are  in  the  Louvre ;  Schlegel  saw  the  St.  Agatha 
there,  it  having  been  carried  to  Paris  in  1799. 
"  Nothing  of  this  description,"  he  proceeds,  "  is 
visible  in  the  picture  of  St.  Agatha.  No  blood, 
no  heartrending  agony,  no  wounds;  for  as  yet 
the  threatening  instruments  of  torture  have  not 
touched  the  body  of  the  saint;  we  do  not  here  see 
that  expression  of  fiendlike,  revolting  malice  which 
usually  distinguishes  pictures  of  this  kind;  every- 


Ube  Iball  ot  Saturn  203 

thing  loathsome  or  disgusting  being  kept  as  com- 
pletely out  of  sight  as  is  possible  in  the  representation 
of  a  martyrdom.  It  seems  therefore  probable  that 
the  horror  which  it  inspires,  prompting  every  one, 
after  a  first  glance,  to  shrink  and  turn  away,  is  pro- 
duced by  the  stern,  soul-freezing  reality  of  the  rep- 
resentation. The  artist  has  chosen  for  his  picture 
the  moment  immediately  preceding  the  application 
of  the  torture.  Already  the  majestic  form  of  the 
noble  woman  is  uncovered;  the  glowing  irons  ap- 
proach her  bosom,  and  the  horrible  idea  of  antici- 
pated suffering  thus  engendered  cannot  be  other- 
wise than  painful  to  excess :  still  there  are  compara- 
tively few  who  will  find  its  suffering  insupportable, 
those  alone  who,  overpowered  by  the  exhibition 
of  suffering,  overlook  the  lofty,  godlike  character  of 
the  design ;  who  derive  nO'  pleasure  from  the  majestic 
beauty  of  the  figures,  or  the  fine  arrangement  of  the 
whole."  In  alluding  to  the  central  figure,  Schlegel 
says :  "  An  ashy  paleness  alone  reveals  the  insupera- 
ble terror  of  mortality  at  the  horrible  doom  approach- 
ing; for  her  lofty  countenance  and  gleaming  eyes  be- 
speak more  indignation  and  contempt  for  her  miser- 
able tyrant  than  concern  for  her  own  sufferings.  In 
the  midst  of  torture  she  yet  triumphs  over  him ;  .  .  . 
he  seems  to  harden  himself  in  his  once  decided  pur- 
pose, as  if  the  stubborn  cruelty  were  struggling  with 
and  subduing  a  better  impulse Perhaps  noth- 


204        XTbe  Hrt  of  tbe  ptttt  palace 

ing  in  the  whole  picture  is  more  worthy  of  notice 
than  the  two  soldiers,  armed,  but  with  helmets 
raised,  who  stand  behind  the  tyrant  and  look  at  the 
proceeding  in  perfect  sympathy  with  the  sufferer. 
.  .  .  Mute  spectators  of  what  they  neither  can  nor 
dare  attempt  to  alter,  they  gaze  only  on  the  saint; 
.  .  .  they  seem  by  their  entire  and  lofty  sympathy 
like  a  strain  of  attendant  music  to  perform  the  part  of 
the  chorus  in  Greek  tragedy.  .  .  .  There  is  a  re- 
markable resemblance  .  .  .  between  the  two,  as  if 
they  were  designed  to  represent  only  one  being, 
though  under  a  double  form;  and  this  circumstance 
is  yet  more  strikingly  in  affinity  with  the  old  chorus 
of  these  tragedies." 

The  Tragedy  of  the  Forty  Crowned  Saints  is 
painted  by  Pontormo  with  spirit  and  vigour  in  Num- 
ber 182.  The  legend  is  that  in  the  reign  of  Diocletian 
there  were  four  architect  brothers,  who,  together 
with  their  guild  of  workmen,  were  Christians,  and 
refused  to  assist  in  the  building  of  heathen  edifices, 
saying,  "  We  cannot  build  a  temple  to  false  gods, 
nor  shape  images  of  wood  or  stone  to  ensnare  the 
souls  of  others."  They  were  immediately  recog- 
nized as  subjects  for  martyrdom,  and  were  disposed 
of  in  many  ingenious  ways.  Pontormo  has  shown 
some  imagination,  but  in  the  main  the  martyrdoms 
assume  familiar  features.  This  happened  on  the 
fourth  day  of  November  in  the  year  400  a.  d.     In 


Zbc  Iball  of  Saturn  205 

the  picture  Diocletian  is  seen,  a  youthful  tyrant 
directing  the  orgy  of  death,  while  in  the  background 
on  the  left  disproportionate  infant  angels  are  seen 
inveighing  against  this  unholy  massacre. 

In  the  Hall  of  Saturn  may  be  seen  also  certain 
Madonnas;  and  Salvator's  Poet  hangs  here, 
Number  181.  There  is  also  rather  a  weak  copy  of 
Titian,  a  Bacchanale,  showing  a  merry  group  of  care- 
less sylvan  creatures,  disporting  themselves  in  a 
harmless  and  joyous  fashion.  A  nymph  and  satyr 
are  dancing  along  with  cymbals ;  the  satyr  is  wound 
with  numerous  snakes.  A  little  fawn  drags  an  ox- 
skull  in  the  foreground;  and  in  the  background  an- 
other satyr,  holding  a  staff  and  waving  his  arms 
aloft,  is  dancing. 

There  are  other  good  pictures  which  lack  of  space 
alone  prevents  our  mentioning. 


CHAPTER    VIII. 

THE  HALL   OF  THE  ILIAD 

In  the  centre  of  the  Hall  of  the  Iliad  stands  a 
marble  group  representing  Charity,  by  Bartolini,  a 
Tuscan  sculptor.  The  treatment  of  the  subject  is 
the  same  as  that  of  a  fifteenth  century  statue  in  the 
Bargello. 

The  picture  of  first  importance  in  this  hall  is 
the  Monk  at  the  Clavichord,  by  Giorgione,  commonly 
called  The  Concert.  Giorgione,  with  his  "  spiritual 
power  and  practical  sense,"  as  Ruskin  claims  for 
him,  and  "  his  entirely  perfect  intellect,"  has  given 
us  this  picture.  The  work  is  very  uneven,  the  central 
figure  being  vital  and  superbly  painted,  while  the 
other  two  are  not  nearly  as  strong. 

A  young  Augustine  monk  with  the  face  of  an 
ascetic  sits  at  a  clavichord  and  is  playing.  The  hands 
grip  the  keys  finely.  Evidently  a  full,  rich  chord 
is  being  struck.  The  modelling  of  the  face,  which 
is  turned  away  looking  over  his  shoulder,  is  master- 
ful.   At  his  left  (the  right  of  the  picture)  stands  a 

206 


mmm  of  'mi 


Ube  Iball  of  tbe  IFlla^  207 

priest  in  a  white  rochet,  who  is  resting  his  hand 
lightly  upon  the  shoulder  of  the  player.  In  his  other 
hand  he  holds  a  musical  instrument;  judging  from 
what  is  seen  of  this  instrument,  it  is  a  tute.  A  rather 
self-concious  youth  poses  for  a  full-face  portrait  on 
the  left.  He  is  dressed  in  yellow  and  black,  with  a 
white-plumed  hat.  By  courtesy  it  is  assumed  that  he 
is  listening.  These  two  figures  are  but  accessories  to 
the  first.  The  question  as  to  what  the  picture  repre- 
sents will  probably  never  be  answered  to  the  satis- 
faction of  all  critics.  To  one  it  bears  one  message, 
to  another  something  quite  different.  But  on  one 
point  all  must  agree.  Whether  Giorgione  intended 
to  paint  a  portrait,  an  ideal  head,  or  a  genre  subject, 
he  has  caught  for  all  that  ineffable  quality  of  musical 
thrall ;  as  Symonds  so  happily  expresses  it,  "  the 
very  soul  of  music,  as  represented  in  Browning's 
'  Abt  Vogler,'  passing  through  his  eyes." 

Timothy  Cole,  who  has  made  an  exquisite  engrav- 
ing of  this  subject,  tells  a  story  of  people  who  passed 
through  the  gallery  while  he  was  engaged  at  his 
work,  illustrating  the  varying  tastes  and  interpre- 
tations of  different  tourists.  Two  young  ladies 
first  stood  before  the  picture;  each  one  expressed 
herself  regarding  it.  One  of  them  remarked  upon 
the  glow  of  inspiration  on  the  face  of  the  player; 
evidently  he  has  struck  a  heavenly  chord,  and  it 
has  had  such  an  effect  upon  the  friend  behind  him 


2o8         Ubc  Htt  ot  tbe  pittt  palace 

that  it  has  caused  him  to  drop  his  violin,  exclaim- 
ing, "  Oh,  brother,  how  grand !  how  glorious !  " 
The  sister  of  this  young  woman  had  received  a  dif- 
ferent impression  from  the  picture.  To  her  she  said 
it  seemed  as  if  the  violin  had  gotten  out  of  tune,  and 
that  its  owner  had  approached  and  laid  his  hand  on 
the  shoulder  of  the  player,  apologizing  for  being 
obliged  to  request  him  to  desist  while  the  offend- 
ing string  was  tuned.  Then  the  father  of  these 
two  girls  came  up,  and,  when  his  opinion  was  asked, 
he  observed  that  the  "  guide-book  said  "  that  the 
picture  represented  in  portrait  Calvin,  Luther,  and 
Melancthon ;  presumably,  then,  the  significance  might 
be  supposed  to  be  that,  while  Luther  struck  the  first 
chord  of  the  Reformation,  Calvin  joined  in  the 
chorus,  and  Melancthon,  —  well,  Melancthon  just 
stood  by  and  listened !  But  the  father  continued,  with 
an  expression  of  great  wisdom,  to  state  his  own 
personal  belief  that  this  picture  was  but  another 
representation  of  the  Three  Ages  of  Man ;  the  youth, 
in  plumed  pride  of  expectation,  the  mature  man 
playing  in  the  midst  of  life,  and  the  old  man  with 
his  violin  out  of  tune  —  out  of  harmony  with  the 
spirit  of  the  age. 

When  these  critics  had  withdrawn,  two  old  ladies 
ambled  up.  One  of  them  remarked  upon  the  likeness 
of  the  "  old  monk  "  to  "  the  one  we  saw  in  the  lager- 
beer  saloon !  "    They  commented  upon  the  extremely 


DEPAKl'MENl    or 


Ube  Iball  of  tbe  IFltab  209 

disagreeable  aspect  of  the  painting,  and  proceeded 
with  their  inspection  of  the  other  masterpieces  of 
the  Pitti  Palace. 

Originally  this  painting  was  of  somewhat  different 
proportions.  But  it  was  cut  from  its  frame  and  sent 
to  Paris  in  the  days  of  Napoleon.  When  the  picture 
returned  to  its  rightful  owners,  a  strip  was  added 
at  the  top  of  the  canvas,  and  the  plume  in  the  young 
man's  hat  was  carried  up  rather  unduly,  so  that  the 
handling  of  that  detail  must  not  be  visited  upon 
Giorgione. 

There  is  a  warm  golden  glow  over  the  whole, 
which  is  perhaps  a  little  dimmed  by  varnish.  There 
is  nothing  more  simple  and  at  the  same  time  effect- 
ive among  the  masterpieces  of  the  sixteenth  century. 
Morelli  claims  that  it  is  an  early  Titian,  and  gives 
some  rather  good  reasons  for  this.  Grant  Allen 
accepts  this  amendment,  and  the  Braun  Catalogue 
enters  it  as  a  Titian.  In  any  case,  no  matter  by 
whom  (and  who  is  to  decide  when  experts  disa- 
gree?), the  picture  is  one  of  the  most  interesting  in 
the  gallery.  In  the  time  of  Ridolfi  this  picture  was 
in  Venice  in  the  collection  of  a  Florentine  merchant, 
Paolo  del  Sera.  He  sold  it  to  the  Grand  Duke  of 
Tuscany.  M.  Claude  Philipps  believes  that  the  model 
for  the  monk  was  the  same  as  the  Man  with  the 
Glove  in  the  Louvre,  which  likeness  is  one  of  the 
arguments  in  favour  of  Titian  as  the  artist. 


2IO        Ube  Hrt  ot  tbe  ptttt  palace 

Gabriel  d'Annunzio  has  exquisitely  analyzed  this 
picture  in  an  appreciation  occurring  in  his  "  Flame 
of  Life."  I  quote  from  the  translation  by  Kassan- 
dra  Vivaria : 

"  Whoever  has  looked  at  the  Concerto  with  sa- 
gacious eyes  has  fathomed  an  extraordinary  and 
irrevocable  moment  of  the  Venetian  soul.  By  means 
of  the  harmony  of  colour,  the  power  of  significance 
of  which  is  as  unlimited  as  the  mystery  of  sound, 
the  artist  shows  us  the  first  workings  of  a  yearning 
soul  to  whom  Hfe  suddenly  appears  under  the  aspect 
of  a  rich  inheritance. 

"  The  monk  sitting  at  the  harpsichord  and  his 
older  companion  are  not  monks  like  those  that  Vit- 
tore  Carpaccio  painted  flying  from  the  wild  beast 
that  St.  Jerome  had  tamed.  .  .  .  They  are  of  nobler 
and  stronger  essence,  and  the  air  they  breathe  is 
finer  and  richer:  it  is  propitious  to  the  birth  of  a 
great  joy  or  a  great  sorrow,  or  a  haughty  dream. 
What  notes  do  the  beautiful,  sensitive  hands  draw 
from  the  keys  where  they  linger  ?  Magic  notes  they 
must  be,  certainly,  to  succeed  in  working  in  the  mu- 
sician so  violent  a  transfiguration.  He  is  half-way 
through  his  earthly  existence,  he  is  already  detached 
from  his  youth,  already  on  the  verge  of  decay,  and 
life  is  only  now  revealing  itself  adorned  with  all  its 
good  things,  like  a  forest  laden  with  purple  fruit,  of 
which  his  hands  that  were  intent  on  other  work  have 


Ube  Iball  ot  tbe  f  lia^  211 

never  known  the  velvet  bloom.  He  does  not  fall  un- 
der the  dominion  of  some  solitary  tempting  image, 
because  his  sensuality  slumbers,  but  he  undergoes 
a  confused  kind  of  anguish  in  which  regret  over- 
comes desire,  while  on  the  web  of  the  harmonies 
that  he  seeks,  the  vision  of  his  past  —  such  as  it 
might  have  been  and  was  not  —  weaves  itself  before 
his  eyes  like  a  design  of  Chimerae.  His  compan- 
ion, who  is  calm  because  already  on  the  threshold 
of  old  age,  divines  this  inner  tempest;  kindly  and 
gravely  he  touches  the  shoulder  of  the  passionate 
musician  with  a  pacifying  movement.  Emerging 
from  the  warm  shadow  like  the  expression  of  de- 
sire itself,  we  see  the  youth  with  the  plumed  hat  and 
the  unshorn  locks,  the  fiery  flower  of  adolescence, 
whom  Giorgione  seems  to  have  created  under  the 
influence  of  a  ray  reflected  from  the  stupendous 
Hellenic  myth  whence  the  ideal  form  of  the  Her- 
maphrodite arose.  He  is  there,  present  and  yet  a 
stranger,  separated  from  the  others  as  one  having 
no  care  but  for  his  own  good.  The  music  seems  to 
exalt  his  inexpressible  dream  and  to  multiply  in- 
finitely his  power  of  enjoyment.  He  knows  that  he 
is  master  of  the  life  that  escapes  both  the  others; 
the  harmonies  sought  after  by  the  player  seem  only 
the  prelude  to  his  own  feast.  He  glances  sideways 
intently  as  if  turning  to  I  know  not  what  that  fas- 
cinates him,   and  that  he  would   fascinate.     His 


212         Ube  Hrt  ot  tbe  pittt  palace 

closed  mouth  is  a  mouth  heavy  with  a  yet  ungiven 
kiss;  his  forehead  is  so  spacious  that  the  leafiest 
of  crowns  would  not  encumber  it,  but  if  I  consider 
his  hidden  hands,  I  can  only  imagine  them  in  the 
act  of  crumpling  the  laurel  leaves  to  perfume  his 
fingers." 

The  picture  of  Jesus  enthroned  in  heaven  with 
attendant  saints,  by  Annibale  Caracci,  is  one  of  the 
most  exquisite  of  the  compositions  of  this  master. 
The  figure  of  the  Saviour,  seated  upon  the  clouds, 
extending  both  his  arms  to  the  world  below,  is  in- 
effably graceful.  The  face  is  that  of  a  youth ;  he  is 
hardly  more  than  eighteen,  although  the  hands  are 
pierced,  showing  that  it  is  intended  to  represent  the 
Christ  after  his  crucifixion.  But  whatever  the 
reason  for  representing  Christ  as  so  young  a  boy,  the 
result  is  one  of  the  most  beautiful  in  art.  On 
either  side  of  the  central  figure  little  angels  sym- 
bolizing Night  and  Day  are  crouching;  one  deeply 
shaded  by  a  drapery  around  his  head,  the  other  in 
the  full  light.  On  either  side,  beyond,  are  the  Evan- 
gelists: St.  Peter  at  the  left,  with  his  keys  and 
books,  and  St.  John  with  his  eagle  and  book  on  the 
right.  All  this  part  of  the  composition  is  refined  and 
restful.  If  one  could  be  vouchsafed  a  heavenly  vis- 
ion, it  might  be  like  this. 

Below,  on  the  earth,  appears  a  distant  city,  with 
domes  and  pediments  showing,   and  a  landscape 


CHRIST    ENTHRONED 

By  A.  Caracci;  in  the  Hall  of  the  Iliad 


Mmi\^'^ 


% 


I  \: 


,^ci>\w'l\\EN'l   U 


Ubc  Iball  ot  tbe  ITltaD  213 

connecting  it  with  the  foreground.  Here  are  four 
fine  figures  of  saints.  The  first,  in  the  centre,  at  the 
left  is  St.  Ermengild,  martyr,  bearing  a  palm;  be- 
hind, at  the  extreme  left,  the  Magdalen.  At  the 
right,  St.  Edward  of  England  is  kneeling  with  one 
hand  on  his  heart  while  the  other  is  placed  on  the 
shoulder  of  the  Cardinal  Farnese.  St.  Edward  of 
England  may  be  either  St.  Edward  the  Martyr,  who 
was  stabbed  in  a  wood  by  the  wicked  treachery  of 
his  stepmother,  or  St.  Edward  the  Confessor,  who  is 
a  later  and  more  familiar  saint.  In  the  case  of  the 
former,  his  proper  emblem  is  a  palm ;  in  the  case  of 
the  Confessor,  a  dove  and  a  ring.  As  none  of  these 
attributes  are  present,  there  is  no  way  of  determining 
which  English  saint  was  intended.  In  the  back- 
ground is  seen  the  creeping  figure  of  a  cripple,  sup- 
ported on  his  hands  by  blocks  which  enable  him  to 
move  independently  of  his  misshapen  legs.  The 
significance  of  this  figure  is  not  easy  to  determine. 
The  colouring  of  the  two  central  figures  in  the  fore- 
ground is  almost  entirely  blue  and  golden  hues ;  the 
red  cape  of  the  cardinal  enlivens  the  right  side  of 
the  picture. 

The  Caracci  are  at  the  very  head  of  the  school  of 
Bologna.  They  were  a  remarkably  talented  family ; 
all  were  painters,  Ludovico,  his  brother  Paolo,  Agos- 
tino,  and  Annibale.  It  is  with  Annibale,  the  painter 
of  the  beautiful  Christ  Enthroned,  that  we  are  now 


214        XTbe  Htt  of  tbe  t^tttt  palace 

concerned.  Annibale  Caracci  was  born  in  Bologna 
in  1560.  Nearly  all  art  which  is  worthy  of  the  name 
in  the  eighteenth  century  owes  its  power  to  the  in- 
fluence of  this  remarkable  family. 

They  observed  Correggio  and  his  peculiarities 
very  closely;  they  knew  anatomy  well,  and  under- 
stood the  human  figure.  In  treating  costume,  they 
were  rather  noted  for  good  plain  folds  than  elaborate 
detail;  drapery  well  managed  rather  than  decorated. 
Mengs  does  not  consider  them  consummate  as 
colourists.  Indeed,  their  paintings  are  often  badly 
faded.  This  arose  from  too  much  oil  being  used. 
They  employed  blues  freely;  often  to  the  verge  of 
coldness.  They  abandoned  the  yellow  tones  which 
had  been  so  long  in  vogue.  Annibale  was  before  all 
the  rest  in  thus  allowing  blue  to  predominate.  It 
is  a  matter  of  taste  whether  this  appears  a  virtue  or 
a  defect  in  their  work. 

Annibale  Caracci  was  a  wonderfuly  accurate  and 
rapid  draughtsman.  In  a  group  of  artists  who  were 
discussing  the  Laocoon,  he  remained  quiet  until  they 
had  all  aired  their  knowledge,  and  then,  with  a  few 
strokes  of  the  pencil,  he  drew  the  statue,  observing, 
"  Poets  paint  with  words ;  painters  speak  with  the 
pencil." 

The  Caracci  are  said  to  mark  the  last  boundary 
line  of  the  Golden  Age  in  Italy.  Annibale  died  in 
Rome,  in  1609. 


Ubc  Iball  of  tbe  iriiat)  215 

The  Assumption  of  the  Virgin,  by  Andrea  del 
Sarto,  Number  191,  is  a  large  picture,  round  at  the 
top.  The  Virgin  is  seated  on  the  clouds,  her  gaze 
directed  upwards,  and  her  right  hand  extended. 
The  face  is  that  of  a  woman  who  has  passed  her  first 
youth.  She  is  surrounded  by  beautiful  nude  child- 
angels,  two  of  whom  hold  tablets.  Below  Mary's 
feet  is  a  most  exquisite  boy-angel,  in  a  strong  light ; 
he  looks  downward  to  earth,  while  pointing  upward, 
bidding  the  saints  below  to  behold  the  celestial  vis- 
ion. Below  are  several  figures  of  apostles,  some 
looking  into  the  empty  tomb,  and  some  directing 
their  gaze  above.  There  is  only  one  false  note  — 
the  portrait  of  the  artist  is  introduced,  kneeling  with 
his  face  turned  so  that  he  looks  over  his  shoulder 
at  the  spectator,  giving  a  disagreeable  impression 
of  inattention  at  so  vital  a  moment.  Some  of  the 
figures  are  unfinished.  The  wood  on  which  the 
picture  is  painted  cracked,  and  this  so  discouraged 
Andrea  that  he  never  quite  completed  his  work 
upon  it.  It  was,  however,  accepted  by  Bartolommeo 
Panciatichi,  who  had  ordered  it,  and  it  hung  in 
the  house  of  his  son  for  a  long  time,  being  sold  after- 
wards to  the  Grand  Duke  Pietro  Leopold.  The 
quality  of  the  atmosphere  is  luminous,  and  the  draw- 
ing of  the  figures  beautiful.  Observe  particularly  an 
apostle  at  the  extreme  left,  with  his  right  arm  raised 
slightly,  and  a  figure  near  the  centre  who  stands 


2i6        Ube  Hrt  of  tbe  putt  palace 

startled,  with  both  hands  (beautifully  modelled) 
lifted  in  a  gesture  of  surprise.  This  picture  may  be 
seen  in  the  illustration  representing  the  Hall  of  the 
Iliad. 

The  Assumption  of  the  Virgin,  by  Andrea  del 
Sarto,  Number  225,  hanging  in  the  same  room,  is 
sometimes  confounded  with  Number  191.  The 
upper  part  of  the  canvas  is  quite  like  some  of  Correg- 
gio's  work,  especially  in  the  quality  of  the  lights. 
The  Virgin  sits  in  the  clouds,  her  hands  joined,  and 
slightly  upraised.  Her  eyes  look  out  from  the  pic- 
ture in  a  disinterested  manner,  and  do  not  carry  the 
observer  upward.  She  looks  as  if  she  were  waiting 
for  a  signal  —  and  as  if  that  signal  were  not  coming 
from  above.  The  little  angels,  which  play  such  an  ac- 
tive part  in  the  scene  which  the  Madonna  takes  so 
passively,  are  beautiful  studies  of  foreshortening. 

The  saints  below  are  rather  academic;  but  the 
central  figure,  with  upturned  profile  and  extended 
arm,  has  such  a  beautiful  hand  that  one  forgets  the 
self-consciousness  of  the  pose.  St.  Margaret  of 
Cortona  appears  at  the  right,  kneeling.  St.  Mar- 
garet was  born  in  Tuscany,  and  in  her  youth  was 
a  noted  evil  liver,  having  been  left  early  an  orphan, 
and  being  overcome  by  the  temptations  of  her  sur- 
roundings. One  of  her  lovers  was  murdered,  and 
a  little  dog  led  her  to  the  place  where  he  lay.  The 
sight  of  his  mutilated  body  so  affected  her  that  she 


tlbe  DaU  of  tbe  1rlta^  217 

repented,  and  reformed,  and  ever  afterwards  lived 
a  saintly  life.  In  1272,  she  took  the  habit  of  the 
third  order  of  St.  Francis.  A  legend  is  told,  that  as 
she  knelt  before  the  crucifix  the  head  of  the  Saviour 
was  bent  in  forgiveness.  She  became  the  represent- 
ative of  the  Magdalen  to  the  people  of  Cortona. 
As  a  rule  the  little  dog  is  regarded  as  her  attribute 
in  art ;  but  in  this  picture  by  Del  Sarto  it  is  omitted. 
St.  Niccolo  de  Bari,  robed  in  a  dalmatic  and  with 
a  mitre  visible  at  his  feet,  assumes  an  admirable  pose 
at  the  left  also.  He  was  a  native  of  Lycia  in  Asia 
Minor.  His  parents  were  Christians.  The  first 
sign  of  early  piety  in  Niccolo  was  on  the  day  of  his 
birth;  he  is  said  to  have  stood  up  in  his  bath,  in 
order  to  render  thanks  to  God  for  having  called  him 
into  the  world.  He  is  probably  the  only  saint  on 
record  to  begin  so  promptly  his  saintly  calling !  He 
continued  to  be  a  most  precocious  child,  and  they 
relate  further  that  he  would  never  nurse  on  Wed- 
nesdays or  Fridays,  being  from  the  first  deter- 
mined to  observe  all  fasts.  Naturally  his  parents 
dedicated  so  remarkable  a  child  to  a  religious  life. 
His  father  and  mother  died  of  the  plague,  and  left 
him,  still  a  young  man,  heir  to  vast  wealth.  He 
regarded  his  riches  as  a  sacred  stewardship,  and 
constantly  gave  large  sums  to  the  deserving  poor. 
Many  people  were  saved  from  lives  O'f  want  or  in- 
famy through  his  unknown  generosify.    One  narra- 


2i8         zbc  Hrt  of  tbe  pitti  palace 

tive  is  related  of  an  innkeeper  who  used  to  steal 
children,  and  serve  up  their  limbs  to  his  guests. 
The  penetrating  St.  Niccolo  approached  the  barrel 
where  the  remains  of  these  victims  were  salted  down, 
and  made  the  sign  of  the  cross  over  them;  where- 
upon the  limbs  arose,  and  the  children,  entire,  are  re- 
ported to  have  run  home  to  their  parents.  The  at- 
tributes of  St.  Niccolo  are  three  balls  —  some 
claim  that  they  are  intended  to  represent  three 
purses  of  gold  which  he  threw  in  at  the  window  of  a 
house  to  save  three  unhappy  girls  from  ruin;  some 
say  that  they  are  three  loaves  of  bread  which  kept 
a  poor  widow  from  starving;  some  say  that  they 
signify  the  Trinity.  St.  Niccolo  died  in  326.  His 
remains  were  taken  to  Bari,  in  1084,  by  some  enter- 
prising merchants,  who  had  heard  of  the  miracles 
which  the  sacred  body  had  wrought,  and  who  went 
and  helped  themselves  to  the  relics  unchallenged, 
the  town  having  been  recently  devastated  by  the  Sar- 
acens. 

The  picture  was  painted  for  the  Cardinal  of 
Cortona,  and  was  placed  in  the  Church  of  St.  Anto- 
nio del  Poggio  in  that  city.  The  grand  Duke  Fer- 
dinand II.  bought  it  from  Cosimo  Passerini  in  1639, 
and  it  w^as  taken  to  the  Pitti  Gallery. 

Biliverti's  Tobias  and  the  Angel,  hanging  above 
the  door,  is  one  of  his  finest  works.  Giovanni  Bil- 
iverti  was  a  Florentine  living  between   1576  and 


TOBIAS    AND    THE    ANGEL 
By  Biliverti ;  in  the  Hall  of  the  Iliad 


M\mm  Of  ^•ft'i^oi 

DEPAKTMENT  UF 


Ube  1ball  of  tbe  irita^  219 

1644,  and  a  pupil  of  Cigoli.  This  picture  was 
painted  in  1612  for  Giovanni  Cerretani,  a  member  of 
the  Florentine  Senate.  The  Grand  Duke  Leopold 
11.  bought  it  from  the  artist  Accia  for  250  sequins. 
Although  often  accused  of  being  affected  and  man- 
nered (for  it  belongs  to  the  decadent  school),  it  has 
a  definite  charm,  even  though  that  charm  be  some- 
what dramatic.  The  picture  represents  Tobias  and 
the  Angel.  As  the  story  is  told  in  the  Apocrypha, 
it  is  probably  unfamiliar  to  many  readers.  An  out- 
line of  it  will  serve  to  interpret  Biliverti's  paint- 
ing. Tobias,  the  son  of  Tobit,  had  gone  forth  to 
marry  a  wife,  leaving  at  home  his  father,  who 
suffered  from  blindness.  While  the  youth  was  on 
his  journey,  accompanied  by  a  stranger  who  was  in 
reality  the  Archangel  Raphael,  he  came  to  the  River 
Tigris. 

"  And  when  the  young  man  went  down  to  the 
river  to  wash  himself,  a  fish  leaped  out  of  the  river, 
and  would  have  devoured  him. 

"  Then  the  angel  said  unto  him,  Take  the  fish. 
And  the  young  man  laid  hold  of  the  fish  and  drew  it 
to  land. 

"  To  whom  the  angel  said :  Open  the  fish  and 
take  out  the  heart  and  the  liver  and  the  gall  and 
put  them  up  safely." 

The  angel  then  went  on  to  explain  to  Tobias  that 
these  parts  of  the  fish  are  of  virtue  in  exorcising 


220        XTbe  Hrt  of  tbe  ptttt  palace 

devils  and  in  healing  blindness.  So  when  Tobias 
returned  home,  his  blind  father  came  to  greet  him. 

"  And  he  took  hold  of  his  father  and  strake  of 
the  gall  on  his  father's  eyes,  saying:  Be  of  good 
hope,  my  father." 

And  the  father  was  healed  of  his  blindness,  and 
Tobias,  not  knowing  who  his  guide  had  been  on  the 
journey,  wished  to  give  him  half  of  his  riches ;  but 
his  companion  answered  him: 

"  I  am  Raphael,  one  of  the  seven  holy  angels, 
and  when  they  bow  in  fear  before  him,  behold  he 
has  gone  when  they  rise  up  again." 

Biliverti  has  chosen  the  dramatic  moment  in  the 
story,  and  depicts  Tobias  and  Tobit  his  father,  with 
newly  recovered  sight,  offering  jewels  to  the  angel, 
who  is  just  b^inning  to  tell  them  his  great  mes- 
sage. The  instant  of  transition  from  ignorance  to 
knowledge  is  caught  with  considerable  power  and 
action.  A  more  critical  moment  could  hardly  have 
been  selected,  and  the  expression  and  attitude  of 
the  figures  are  not  affected,  considering  the  su- 
preme importance  of  the  incident.  Tobias  has 
made  his  offer  of  jewels,  which  he  holds  in  his 
hands,  —  the  old  man,  with  a  slightly  dazed  ex- 
pression, quite  remarkably  indicating  the  unac- 
customed sensation  of  sight,  stands  by;  and  each 
shows  dawning  comprehension  of  the  angel's  words. 
The  lips  of  Tobias  are  parted  in  an  exclamation 


XTbe  1baU  of  tbe  IfUab  221 

of  surprise  and  reverence;  the  wings  of  the  angel 
are  spread  for  flight;  you  feel  that  he  will  be  gone 
directly.  In  point  of  fact,  instead  of  such  a  picture 
being  a  mannered  and  simply  pretty  study  of  a 
scene,  painted  for  the  sake  of  introducing  types,  it 
is  full  of  thought  and  study  of  a  critical  situation. 

St.  Augustine  interprets  the  story  of  Tobias  and 
the  angel  as  being  a  symbolical  story,  saying,  "  Christ 
is  the  fish  which  young  Tobias  took  living  from  the 
stream,  whose  heart,  consumed  by  passion,  put  the 
demon  to  flight  and  restored  sight  to  the  blind." 

The  heads  of  the  three  chief  figures  are  beautifully 
drawn,  that  of  the  angel  being,  as  it  were,  a  Greek 
head  in  a  Renaissance  setting.  The  hands  also  are 
modelled  finely;  the  colour  of  the  whole  is  soft. 
Tobias's  tunic  is  yellow,  while  Tobit  wears  a  blue 
fur-bordered  robe;  the  angel  is  in  soft  grays  and 
violets.  Thus  even  the  colour-scheme  is  thought- 
ful, each  subject  being  clad  in  a  shade  to  harmon- 
ize with  his  position  in  the  legend. 

The  Sleeping  Love,  by  Caravaggio,  is  lying  on  the 
ground  stretched  out  in  slumber.  His  wing  is  bent 
under  him  in  a  way  which,  if  a  Cupid  with  wings 
existed,  would  surely  be  very  natural.  On  the 
ground  are  his  bow  and  quiver. 

In  the  Baptism  of  Christ,  Veronese  fails  to  give 
any  special  inspiration,  though  his  treatment  of  the 
subject  is  not  objectionable.     The  face  of  Jesus  is 


222         Ube  Hrt  ot  tbe  BMtti  palace 

in  shadow.  The  figure  stands  in  a  conventional  way, 
the  attitude  being  one  of  reverence  and  submission, 
and  is  acceptable  if  not  striking.  The  nimbus  about 
the  divine  head  is  painted  in  regular  rays,  but  they 
are  rays  of  simple  light,  in  symmetrical  disposition, 
—  not  metallic  formed  rays  such  as  Carlo  Dolci 
has  employed  in  his  pictures  of  saints.  Christ  is 
kneeling  on  a  small  rock  in  the  bed  of  the  river. 
His  arms  are  crossed  upon  his  breast. 

The  Baptist  stands,  or  rather  leans  upon  a  rock, 
and  conveys  too  much  the  impression  that  he  is 
afraid  to  get  into  the  water  himself.  He  is  in  no 
way  a  figure  equal  to  the  demand  of  the  subject. 
Kneeling  on  the  bank,  rather  in  the  middle  distance, 
and  showing  between  the  figures  of  Christ  and  St. 
John,  is  a  nobly  executed  female  saint.  Her  up- 
turned face  is  in  Veronese's  best  manner,  and  al- 
though the  hand,  which  is  almost  the  only  other 
part  of  her  which  appears,  is  rather  stiff,  the  gen- 
eral effect  is  the  most  pleasing  thing  in  the  picture. 
Two  angels  are  at  the  left,  one  of  them  holding 
a  white  cloth.  The  Holy  Ghost,  symbolized,  as  us- 
ual, by  a  white  dove,  hovers  over  the  group  radiat- 
ing light  —  which  falls  from  above  upon  all.  In 
this  picture  Paul  Veronese  had  no  opportunity  to 
paint  rich  textiles,  but  the  lights  are  characteristic 
of  his  style.  The  background  is  that  of  a  thick 
grove  of  trees  suggesting  that  the  spot  chosen  for 


Ube  Iball  ot  tbe  1rlia^  223 

the  Saviour's  baptism  was  a  shady  nook  by  the  side 
of  the  stream;  quite  a  different  conception  from  that 
of  many  artists,  who  have  painted  the  scene  in  the 
broad  open  river. 

There  is  a  general  air  of  cool  seclusion  about  the 
picture  with  the  clear  sky  showing  through  the 
leafy  branches  at  the  back.  This  picture  may  be 
seen  in  the  illustration  of  the  Hall  of  the  Iliad. 

On  either  side  of  the  large  Assumption  of  the  Vir- 
gin, by  Del  Sarto,  are  rows  of  portraits.  At  the  top 
on  the  right  is  a  picture  by  Pulzone,  of  Eleanora,  wife 
of  Vincenzo  I.,  Duke  of  Mantua.  She  was  a  daughter 
of  Francesco  I.  de  Medici,  and  must  have  been 
brought  up  in  the  Pitti  Palace.  She  is  dressed  in 
court  costume,  such  as  we  usually  call  Elizabethan, 
having  an  elaborate  lace  ruff ;  and  her  hair  is  dressed 
high  with  a  cap  and  jewels.  Scipione  Pulzone  was  a 
young  artist  of  some  promise,  but  he  only  lived  to  be 
thirty-six  years  of  age,  dying  in  1593,  having  come 
to  a  considerable  fame  in  portrait  art.  He  reached 
a  standard  of  excellence  which  came  partly  from  a 
close  study  of  Raphael  and  Del  Sarto,  so  that  he  was 
called,  even  in  his  youth,  the  Van  Dyck  of  the  Ro- 
man school.  He  finished  highly,  especially  the  hair  in 
his  pictures;  and  even  in  the  pupils  of  the  eyes  he 
often  placed  a  reflection  of  the  objects  in  the  room, 
giving  an  extremely  real  expression,  even  when 
viewed  from  a  distance.     His  style  was  laboured, 


224        Ube  Brt  of  tbe  iptttt  palace 

but  it  was  full  of  promise  for  future  greatness,  had 
he  lived. 

A  stiff  head  of  St.  George,  by  Paris  Bordone, 
hangs  in  this  row ;  nothing  about  it  suggests  the 
saint.  He  is  simply  a  man  in  armour,  with  one  un- 
wieldy hand  raised  in  benediction. 

An  unknown  portrait  by  Tinelli  is  painted  with 
much  charm  and  sprightliness. 

Pulzone's  portrait  of  Marie  de  Medici  hangs  at  the 
top  of  the  left  line,  balancing  that  of  Eleanora  on  the 
opposite  side.  Marie  looks  much  as  she  does  in  her 
numerous  portraits  by  Rubens.  She  is  in  a  decollete 
corsage  with  high  stiff  lace  collar  flaring  back  in  the 
fashion  which  she  usually  affected.  She  is  gowned 
in  red  and  is  covered  with  jewels.  It  is  a  ver>'' 
"  dressy  "  portrait.  Marie  de  Medici  was  also  a 
daughter  of  Francesco  I.  de  Medici,  and  was  bom 
April  26,  1575,  and  married  King  Henry  IV.  of 
France  when  she  was  twenty-five  years  of  age.  This 
monarch  was  addicted  to  gallantries  which  greatly 
displeased  the  fiery  disposition  of  his  bride,  who 
laboured  under  the  disadvantage  of  being  less  good- 
looking  than  the  ladies  w^ho  had  superseded  her  in  her 
husband's  affections.  It  is  said  that  his  face  has  of- 
ten borne  the  marks  of  her  nails,  a  method  which  she 
adopted  to  show  her  disapproval  of  his  reprehen- 
sible course  of  action.  She  was  the  mother  of  Louis 
XIIL,  and  at  the  death  of  her  husband  became  re- 


Ube  Iball  of  tbe  HUab  225 

gent.  Her  great  political  career  began  then  —  her 
history  is  familiar  to  all.  She  lived  to  be  sixty- 
five  years  old.  This  portrait  was  painted  in  her  youth. 
She  died  at  last,  in  Cologne,  in  1643,  without  even 
the  material  comforts,  exiled  by  her  son,  Louis  XIII. 

There  is  another  portrait  of  himself  by  Andrea  del 
Sarto;  and  one  of  Salvator  Rosa,  by  himself,  facing 
the  spectator,  and  holding  his  palette  and  brushes. 
There  is  a  superb  Velasquez  portrait,  —  a  thor- 
oughly Spanish-looking  man  with  a  mantle  slung 
across  his  shoulder,  the  costume  being  of  about 
the  year  1600. 

The  lowest  portrait  in  this  row,  Number  190,  is 
by  Sustermans,  and  represents  the  son  of  Federigo 
III.,  King  of  Denmark.  It  shows  a  youth  in  armour, 
with  a  sash  across  his  breast,  and  a  large  square  col- 
lar of  elaborate  lace.  He  is  rather  a  heavy-eyed  boy, 
with  his  hair  cut  straight  across  his  forehead,  too 
close  to  his  eyebrows.  The  portrait  is  a  decorative 
one,  and  is  familiar  to  most  of  us,  through  photo- 
graphs. 

A  mediaeval,  serious  countenance  gazes  at  us  from 
a  small  panel.  Number  195,  by  Francia,  at  the  bot- 
tom of  the  row  of  portraits  on  the  other  side.  It  is 
as  fine  a  treatment  of  the  human  face  as  any  in  this 
gallery,  and  stands  out  cool,  restful,  and  pure  from 
among  the  florid  pictures  of  a  later  day.  Francia, 
or  Francesco   Raibolini,  was  a  gpreat  ai-tist  who 


226        ubc  Hrt  of  tbe  ptttt  ©alace 

lived  in  the  early  part  of  the  sixteenth  century,  dying 
in  1557.  His  work  has  a  fascinating  quality  of 
naivete.  In  his  religious  pictures  he  exhibits  deep 
feeling.  The  handling  is  not  so  perfect  as  that  of 
Perugino,  but  "  for  mastery  over  oil  painting,"  says 
John  Addington  Symonds,  "  and  for  charm  of 
colour,  Francia  challenges  comparison  with  what 
is  best  in  Perugino,  though  he  did  not  attain  quite 
the  same  technical  excellence." 

There  are  portraits,  too,  by  Sustermans,  of  Fer- 
dinando  II.,  Number  209,  and  of  Cosimo  I.  by 
Bronzino,  Number  212.  Short  accounts  of  the 
lives  and  errors  of  these  princes  will  be  found  in  the 
chapter  upon  the  growth  of  the  collection. 

Number  215  is  a  portrait  of  Don  Diego  da  Men- 
doza,  by  Titian.  It  was  painted  in  15 14,  while  Men- 
doza  was  Ambassador  to  Venice  for  Charles  V.  of 
Spain.  It  is  a  striking  picture,  and  a  good  subject, 
although  restorers  have  done  their  best  to  spoil  it. 
Don  Diego  da  Mendoza  was  a  favourite  of  Charles 
v.,  and  entrusted  by  the  emperor  with  important 
duties  as  ambassador  and  viceroy.  The  emperor 
conferred  upon  him  the  viceroyalty  of  Valencia 
when  he  left  his  kingdom  for  an  expedition  into  Ger- 
many. Mendoza  was  also  Ambassador  to  Rome  and 
Venice,  and  was  brought  into  close  relations  with 
Cosimo  de  Medici  when  Charles  sought  large  loans 
from  the  Florentines.     A  skilful  master  of  diplo- 


Ube  1baU  of  tbe  fltab  227 

macy,  Mendoza  was  a  poor  soldier;  and  it  was 
through  his  lack  of  military  foresight  that  the  people 
of  Siena  recovered  from  him  their  city,  which  he 
occupied  under  the  pretence  of  rendering  the  inhab- 
itants sure  protection. 

St.  Benedict  among  the  Saints  in  Heaven,  by 
Paul  Veronese,  is  a  rich  characteristic  bit  of  the 
master's  gorgeousness.  The  saint  is  displayed  in 
a  cope  O'f  regal  magnificence;  he  stands  among  the 
clouds,  with  uplifted  face.  His  attitude  is  benign 
and  stately,  and  he  holds  a  crozier.  At  either  side 
of  him  stand  two  other  saints,  in  equally  rich  copes, 
embroidered  with  figures  and  rendered  most  ex- 
quisitely. These  two  saints  are  St.  Maur  and  St. 
Placidus,  his  first  two  disciples.  St.  Maur  holds  a 
book  and  a  censer;  St.  Placidus  a  palm,  he  being  a 
martyr.  At  his  feet  kneel  many  virgins  in  vest- 
ments of  nuns ;  among  them  is  St.  Scholastica,  dis- 
tinguished by  her  attribute,  a  dove.  The  picture  was 
painted  in  1572.  In  the  sky  is  seen  a  very  ornately 
dressed  St.  Catherine  kneeling  at  the  feet  of  Christ. 
The  draperies  could  not  be  better  disposed,  either 
for  near  inspection  or  for  distant  effect. 

Guido  Reni's  Charity,  Number  197,  is  an  oval  pic- 
ture, and  hangs  above,  in  a  corner.  It  is  a  graceful 
composition  of  clinging  children  about  a  partly 
draped  woman.  Individually  the  figures  are  not 
affected. 


228         ube  Hrt  of  tbe  pttti  palace 

Hanging  high  is  the  full-length  portrait  of  Philip 
II.  of  Spain,  by  Titian.  Philip  II. 's  portrait  by 
Velasquez  is  acknowledged  to  be  the  one  which 
presents  the  Spanish  king  most  realistically,  but 
one  must  attribute  much  of  its  monumental  effect 
to  the  genius  of  the  artist.  Painters  have  always 
flattered  kings.  It  is  interesting  to  have  other  por- 
traits of  the  same  subject  by  other  artists,  so  that  a 
genuine  impression  may  be  gained  how  the  man 
looked  and  what  kind  of  a  spirit  there  was  in  him. 
Philip  II.,  small  in  stature  and  dreary  of  counte- 
nance, with  a  large  protruding  jaw,  fits  his  repu- 
tation. Industrious,  master  of  intrigue,  an  adept 
in  cruelty,  irnpei-fectly  educated,  grasping,  avari- 
cious, possessed  of  a  great  empire,  with  unlimited 
power  at  his  command,  he  ruled  by  the  exercise  of 
his  own  will,  and  destroyed  either  in  open  warfare 
or  secret  plot  all  who  withstood  him.  Motley  speaks 
of  him  as  a  spider  sitting  in  the  centre  of  his  web, 
and  entangling  within  it  all  who  ventured  near. 
Sitting  in  his  cabinet  in  the  Escorial,  and  as  invis- 
ible and  hedged  about  as  the  Grand  Lama  of  Thi- 
bet, he  dictated  the  policy  of  the  state.  Few  men 
have  ever  exercised  so  great  a  power,  and  fewer 
have  ever  used  it  for  such  unworthy  ends.  Treach- 
ery, conspiracy,  and  assassination  are  not  unjustly 
associated  with  his  name.  The  murderer  of  Will- 
iam the  Silent,  it  is  fitting  that  he  should  have  re- 


Ube  Iball  ot  tbe  ITUab  229 

joiced  at  the  Massacre  of  St.  Bartholomew.  The 
story  of  the  Netherlands  in  revolt  illustrates  the 
deliberate  cruelty  of  his  acts.  Philip  II.  and  Alva 
must  be  mentioned  together.  In  the  small  and  nar- 
row head  are  evidences  of  that  secretiveness  and 
intrigue  which  hatched  the  plots;  and  the  lower 
part  of  his  face  indicates  the  determination  and 
energy  that  carried  them  out.  We  have  here  the 
skill  of  the  man  who  could  conceive  the  idea 
of  the  Spanish  Armada  and  command  resources 
sufficient  to  put  the  idea  into  operation.  Philip 
determined  to  stem  the  tide  of  modern  thought; 
heretics  must  be  destroyed,  and  the  Inquisition  was 
one  O'f  the  instruments  used  in  a  wholesale  destruc- 
tion. He  was  governed  by  motives  partly  religious, 
partly  political,  but  the  result  was  the  same;  and 
the  world,  looking  upon  his  face,  can  never  fail  to 
see  there  the  cruelty  and  bigotry  which  devastated 
Europe  and  threatened  England. 

Cardinal  Ippolito  de  Medici,  painted  in  Hun- 
garian battle  costume,  is  in  Titian's  best  portrait 
vein.  He  is  turned  three-quarters  to  the  right,  in 
a  red  cap  ornamented  with  a  buckle  and  plumes.  In 
his  right  hand  is  a  baton  and  in  his  left  a  sabre. 
He  certainly  embodies  the  Venetian  preference  for 
warfare  over  religion.  His  history  was  a  strange 
one.  He  was  a  natural  child  of  Giuliano  de  Medici, 
Duke  of  Nemours,  and  was  born  in  Urbino  in  151 1. 


230        XTbe  Hrt  ot  tbe  pttti  palace 

Giuliano  was  a  brother  of  Pope  Leo  X.,  who  be- 
came interested  in  his  nephew,  and  had  him  ap- 
pointed cardinal,  not  on  account  of  the  young  man's 
fitness  for  the  calling,  but  because  it  was  a  con- 
venient favour  for  the  Pope  to  bestow.  Ippolito 
was  of  a  very  martial  disposition,  and  took  his  first 
opportunity  to  join  the  army  when  Charles  V.  as- 
sembled a  host  to  go  out  against  Solyman  and  the 
Turks.  Clement  VIL,  who  was  then  Pope,  ap- 
pointed him  as  his  legate,  and  gave  him  three  hun- 
dred musketeers,  with  whom  he  proceeded  joyously 
to  Vienna.  His  distaste  for  the  more  peaceful  fields 
of  Church  disputations  caused  the  Pope  to  pro- 
nounce him  slightly  insane.  He  allowed  his  mus- 
keteers to  run  riot,  and  behaved  himself  in  so  lawless 
a  way  that  Charles  V.  had  him  arrested,  but,  know- 
ing that  Ippolito  had  found  favour  with  Pope 
Clement,  with  whom  he  wished  to  enter  upon  a 
treaty,  he  decided  to  liberate  the  legate,  who  ap- 
peared at  Bologna  at  the  conference.  It  was  here 
that,  while  sporting  his  Hungarian  uniform,  Titian 
painted  his  likeness.  The  bronzed  visage  is  painted 
in  a  remarkably  lifelike  way,  and  Titian  has  adapted 
his  style  well  to  the  exigencies  of  the  subject.  The 
description  by  Crowe  and  Cavalcaselle  seems  best 
to  quote  in  studying  the  detail  of  this  picture :  "  No 
modulations  are  to  be  observed  in  a  face  the  whole 
character  of  which  lies  in  the  contrast  between  pol- 


trbe  Iball  of  tbe  1^Ua^  231 

ished  skin,  sharp-cut  features,  and  eyes  of  porten- 
tous cunning.  There  is  something  grandly  entire 
in  the  whole  head,  to  which  Titian  gives  life  and 
elevation  by  a  broad  and  general  rendering  of  the 
lineaments,  without  any  research  of  miniature. 
Smooth  rounding  and  tone  were  essential  to  the 
production  of  this  effect,  and  these  Titian  gives 
with  a  warmth  and  softness  of  fusion  truly  ad- 
mirable. Looking  closely  at  the  grain  of  the  can- 
vas, one  sees  the  art  with  which  the  colour  is 
strained  over  it,  the  skill  with  which  uniform  gloss 
is  broken  with  a  touch  or  modified  with  a  glaze. 
A  Giorgionesque  and  mysterious  glow  is  the  result." 

Titian's  head  of  Christ  lacks  character.  It  is 
only  a  bust,  the  face  nearly  in  profile,  and  one  hand 
laid  on  the  breast-  Red  and  blue  predominate  in 
the  draperies.  It  is  an  early  work  of  the  master, 
and  has  the  delicate  finish  and  gloss  of  the  period. 
As  usual,  Titian  has  here  "  given  tenderness  by 
transitions  of  half-tones  and  broken  contrasted  col- 
ours," as  Crowe  describes  his  method  of  mottling. 
The  picture  has  a  landscape  background. 

The  weak,  vicious  face  of  Francesco  I.  de  Medici 
confronts  us  in  Bronzino's  portrait.  Number  206. 
This  was  the  son  of  Cosimo  I.,  born  the  25th  of 
March,  in  1541.  He  was  a  great  patron  of  arts 
and  letters,  but  a  disgraceful  example  of  self-indul- 
gence and  weakness  of  purpose  where  moral  ques- 


232         Ube  Hrt  ot  tbe  pittt  palace 

tions  were  involved.  He  became  sovereign  of  Tus- 
cany at  thirty-five  years  of  age.  He  used  to  cir- 
cumvent plots  and  conspiracies  in  the  Pitti  Palace 
in  an  ingenious  way,  narrated  by  his  biographer, 
and  chronicled  in  the  "  Memoirs  of  Mark  Noble," 
which  I  quote :  "  He  perforated  the  six  torquex  in 
the  Medicean  arms,  which  were  put  up  very  high 
in  the  great  hall  of  the  Palazzo  Pitti,  and,  when 
the  magistrates  sat  in  their  judicial  capacity,  all 
that  was  said  was  distinctly  heard  in  a  gallery  on 
the  other  side.  Here  he  often  took  his  post,  and, 
much  to  his  honour,  if  he  detected  in  them  any  par- 
tiality, the  cause  was  reexamined  by  himself,  the 
decree  reversed,  and  the  judge  punished." 

Francesco  married  a  lady  of  great  virtue,  the 
Duchess  Johanna  of  Austria,  niece  of  Maximilian 
II.  This  good  woman  was  kept  in  a  state  of  con- 
stant excitement  and  fear,  through  the  unlawful 
affection  of  her  lord  and  master  for  the  beautiful 
Bianca  Capello,  wife  of  Pietro  Bonaventuri.  The 
grand  duchess,  piously  trusting  in  her  religion,  per- 
formed a  pilgrimage  to  Our  Lady  of  Loretto,  in 
order  to  win  back  the  heart  of  her  husband.  In 
1572  she  and  her  ladies  set  out  for  Loretto  with 
offerings  of  golden  hearts,  candlesticks,  crosses,  etc., 
but  in  vain.  Our  Lady  of  Loretto  was  powerless 
against  the  substantial  charms  of  Bianca  Capello, 


Ube  1ball  of  tbe  HUab  233 

and  Johanna  was  put  aside,  and  shortly  after  died, 
in  1578. 

The  portrait  of  Bianca  Capello,  the  cause  of  all 
this  trouble,  Number  204,  hangs  here.  It  was 
painted  also  by  Bronzino.  She  is  richly  dressed. 
She  wears  a  beautiful  gown  of  embroidered  stuff 
designed  in  square  figures;  her  sleeves  are  elab- 
orately arranged  to  button  their  whole  length,  but 
were  left  open  when  the  picture  was  painted.  Short 
frills  are  around  the  upper  parts  of  the  sleeves  and 
around  the  shoulder.  The  neck  is  open,  and  shows 
a  lace-trimmed  chemisette;  the  collar  flares  in  the 
Elizabethan  fashion,  and  she  wears  a  thin  veil.  She 
has  on  a  pearl  necklace. 

Bianca  Capello  was  bom  in  Venice,  but  was  mar- 
ried at  an  early  age  to  Pietro  Bonaventuri  against 
her  father's  wishes.  The  couple  fled  to  Florence. 
There  the  dissolute  Francesco  de  Medici  saw  her, 
and  fell  desperately  in  love.  Her  defenders  say 
that  Bianca  was  a  virtuous  woman,  and  that  she 
was  never  the  mistress  of  Francesco.  Her  husband 
was  a  weak  and  lazy  member  of  society,  and  Bianca 
was  finally  reduced  to  taking  in  washing  to  sup- 
port the  family,  —  which  would  have  been  unneces- 
sary if  she  had  listened  to  her  powerful  adorer. 
Finally,  however,  the  conditions  changed.  Fran- 
cesco went  about  hinting  that  Pietro  Bonaventuri 
was  in  the  way;   that  it  was  not  a  grand  duke's 


234        XTbe  Hrt  ot  tbe  ptttt  palace 

business  to  put  him  to  death,  but  that  the  same 
grand  duke  would  pardon  any  assassin  who  chose 
to  kill  Pietro  on  his  own  account.  One  day,  not  long 
after,  the  unfortunate  Pietro  was  discovered  dead 
on  a  bridge  near  his  home.  Bianca,  who,  though 
virtuous  in  the  popular  acceptance  of  the  term, 
was  certainly  very  much  attracted  to  the  duke,  went 
to  him  in  all  the  **  pomp  of  mourning,"  and  de- 
manded justice  for  the  "  murderer."  Whereupon 
Francesco  replied :  "  The  best  justice  I  can  give 
you  is  to  marry  you  myself."  This  arrangement 
conforming  absolutely  with  the  proprieties  as  Bianca 
conceived  them,  she  and  the  duke  were  promptly 
wedded  on  the  12th  of  October,  1579.  Their  only 
son  died  in  infancy. 

Some  years  passed  happily,  and  then  the  royal 
couple  received  a  visit  from  their  brother,  Cardinal 
Ferdinand  de  Medici,  who  thought  it  a  pity  that  two 
people  like  his  brother  and  his  low-born  consort 
should  so  long  occupy  the  throne  of  Tuscany,  to 
which  he  himself  would  succeed  if  they  should  hap- 
pen both  to  expire.  So  the  kindly  Cardinal  Ferdi- 
nand came  to  visit  them,  and  they  all  sat  down  to 
luncheon.  A  tart  such  as  Francesco  greatly  enjoyed 
was  set  before  them.  He  and  Bianca  ate  a  great  deal 
of  this  delicacy,  —  Cardinal  Ferdinand  was  fasting, 
and  denied  himself  the  treat.  By  a  curious  coin- 
cidence, both  Francesco  and  Bianca  died  that  night. 


Ubc  Iball  of  tbe  ITltat)  235 

This  melancholy  event  took  place  on  the  15th  of 
October,  in  1587. 

It  is  a  misfortune  that  the  only  two  pictures  in 
the  Pitti  which  have  ever  been  attributed  to  Leo- 
nardo da  Vinci  have  been  somewhat  discredited; 
so  that  in  all  probability  this  greatest  of  artists  is 
not  represented  in  the  collection.  Still,  the  Gold- 
smith and  the  Monaca  have  both  been  considered 
as  his  work  for  generations,  and  it  is  interesting 
to  note  the  reasons  for  the  change  of  opinion,  as 
well  as  the  fact  of  their  having  been  so  long  ac- 
credited to  him. 

The  Goldsmith  is  now  thought  to  be  the  work 
of  Ridolfo  Ghirlandajo.  It  is  painted  in  low  tones 
of  brown  and  black.  The  main  colour  in  the  pic- 
ture'is  in  the  charming  little  landscape  in  the  back- 
ground. The  expression  of  the  man  who  exam- 
ines a  beautiful  jewel  which  he  holds  in  his  hand 
is  very  living.  It  might  easily  be  a  portrait,  for  it 
has  certain  faults  of  feature  which  are  seldom  chosen 
by  a  painter  in  representing  an  ideal  subject.  The 
under  lip  is  heavy,  and  the  chin  is  not  regular.  But 
it  is  a  very  pleasing  picture  nevertheless ;  the  small 
touch  of  filigree  against  the  sombre  texture  of  the 
garment  of  the  goldsmith  is  in  happy  relief. 

Ridolfo  Ghirlandajo  was  a  painter  of  legitimate 
pictures,  and  was  also  what  in  modern  times  would 
be  called  a  *'  decorator :  "  not  being  averse  to  paint- 


236       trbe  Htt  of  tbe  pttti  palace 

ing  banners,  standards,  etc.,  and  designing  pageants, 
triumphal  arches,  and  decorations  of  heraldic  char- 
acter. When  Ghirlandajo  was  in  Rome,  Raphael 
invited  him  to  assist  him  with  his  frescoes  in  the 
Vatican;  but  Ridolfo,  with  very  little  foresight, 
refused,  thereby  losing  the  opportunity  of  being 
associated  with  the  great  master,  and  of  having 
his  name  handed  down  to  posterity  in  connection 
with  that  important  work.  He  had  much  elegance 
and  facility,  and  a  certain  vivacity  of  manner  which 
enabled  him  to  follow  the  style  of  Raphael  in  some 
of  his  pictures.  Many  of  his  figures  are  strikingly 
like  those  of  Raphael.  But  he  painted  rather  for 
amusement  than  as  a  profession;  therefore  he  was 
what  might  be  called  an  amateur.  He  assembled 
a  coterie  of  clever  people  around  him  and  instructed 
them  in  various  of  the  minor  decorative  arts  which 
greatly  fascinated  him.  His  portraits  were  excel- 
lent. He  was  of  a  sunny,  cheerful  disposition,  and 
he  lived  to  enjoy  a  peaceful  old  age,  suffering  some- 
what from  the  gout,  and  bearing  it  with  fortitude. 
He  decorated  several  ceilings  in  the  Pitti  Palace, 
and,  as  he  grew  old,  he  became  a  devoted  sight- 
seer, and  visited  all  new  buildings,  gardens,  etc., 
that  were  in  the  vicinity  and  could  be  conveniently 
seen.  Vasari  tells  how  "  one  day  that  the  Signor 
Duke  had  gone  out  of  Florence,  Ridolfo  caused 
himself  to  be  carried  in  a  chair  to  the  palace,  where 


Ube  Iball  of  tbe  iritaD  237 

]ie  lived  and  remained  the  whole  day,  examining 
the  whole  of  that  building,  which  was  so  greatly 
altered  and  transmuted  from  what  it  had  formerly 
been  that  he  scarcely  knew  it  again."  Vasari  was 
at  that  time  painting  at  the  Pitti.  In  the  evening, 
when  he  departed,  the  old  man  said :  "  Now  shall 
I  die  content,  since  I  shall  be  able  to  carry  to  our 
artists  who  are  in  the  other  world  intelligence  to 
the  effect  that  I  have  seen  the  dead  revived,  the 
deformed  made  beautiful,  and  the  old  made  young." 
Ridolfo  died  at  the  age  of  seventy-five  years,  in 
1560,  and  was  interred  in  Santa  Maria  Novella. 

In  Fra  Bartolommeo's  Virgin  Enthroned,  the 
Madonna  is  seated  in  the  centre,  on  a  high  throne, 
above  which  is  suspended  a  circular  canopy  sus- 
pended by  four  angels.  St.  Bartholomew,  standing 
by  on  the  right,  is  very  stocky,  and  holds  a  knife 
and  a  book  in  his  hand.  On  the  left  St.  Michael 
stands  in  full  armour,  one  foot  advanced,  giving  a 
light  poise  to  the  figure  in  strong  contrast  to  the 
heavy  St.  Bartholomew  on  the  opposite  side.  He 
holds  a  furled  banner,  and  a  small  palm  in  the  other 
hand.  His  head  is  very  noble.  The  angels  at  the 
foot  of  the  throne  are  playing,  one  upon  a  violin 
and  the  other  upon  a  lute.  They  are  inexpressibly 
graceful.  So  much  lampblack  was  used  in  this 
painting  that  it  is  almost  a  monochrome.  It  is  well 
drawn,  in  good  relief,  and  is  a  fine  composition. 


238        XTbe  Hrt  ot  tbe  iptttt  palace 

The  usual  effect  of  a  pyramid  in  composition  is 
combined  with  much  grace  and  action  of  a  stately 
kind.  The  infant  is  placing  a  ring  on  the  hand  of 
St.  Catherine.  St.  Reparata,  in  lovely  garments, 
kneels  at  the  Virgin's  feet.  The  Cathedral  of  Flor- 
ence was  named  for  this  saint,  who  was  for  six 
hundred  years  the  patroness  of  Florence,  from  680 
to  1298.  She  was  a  virgin  of  Cappadocia,  and  was 
martyred  under  Decius  when  she  was  only  twelve 
years  old.  She  was  tortured  and  then  beheaded, 
and  her  spirit  is  reported  to  have  issued  from  her 
mouth  in  the  form  of  a  white  dove  when  she  died. 
Her  usual  emblems  are  a  crown,  a  palm,  and  ban- 
ner with  a  red  cross  on  it.  This  picture  was  painted 
in  1 5 12,  in  partnership  with  Albertinelli.  It  hung 
originally  in  the  Church  of  San  Marco,  but  was 
taken  to  the  Pitti  in  1690,  where  it  was  placed  in 
the  apartments  of  Ferdinand  de  Medici,  son  of  Cos- 
imo  III.  Antonio  Gabbiani  made  a  copy  of  it,  which 
was  given  to  the  church;  the  price  paid  was  equal 
to  $800. 

Daniel  Barbaro,  by  Veronese,  is  a  good  portrait, 
true  to  the  life.  The  man  is  sitting  full  face;  he 
has  gray  hair,  and  is  clad  in  a  black  robe  lined  with 
ermine.  The  hands  are  magnificently  painted.  In 
the  left  one  he  holds  a  handkerchief.  It  is  a  thor- 
oughly good  Venetian  portrait  of  the  period.  Bar- 
baro was  Venetian  Ambassador  to  the  Court  of 


Ube  Iball  of  tbe  iritab  239 

England  during  the  reign  of  Edward  the  Sixth. 
Born  in  Venice,  he  studied  in  Padua,  and  was  in- 
terested in  mathematics,  botany,  and  other  sciences. 
After  having  been  for  some  time  in  diplomatic  ser- 
vice in  Venice,  he  accepted  the  position  of  Ambas- 
sador to  England  in  1548.  In  the  Council  of  Trent 
he  was  an  earnest  and  active  defender  of  the  Church. 
He  died  in  1570. 

St.  John  the  Evangelist,  by  Carlo  Dolci,  is  as 
mannered  and  smooth  as  most  of  his  pictures.  It 
is  full  of  ''  prettiness  "  and  the  style  of  grace  that 
was  admired  in  Dolci's  day ;  it  is  no  adequate  con- 
ception to  modern  observers  of  the  inspired  writer. 

Number  218,  by  Salvator  Ro^sa,  represents  a  war- 
rior, standing  in  full  armour  facing  the  spectator. 
He  is  a  fierce  person,  with  glittering  eyes  and  a  cruel 
little  moustache  above  a  thick,  sensual  mouth.  His 
shock  of  wild  hair  is  painted  in  a  masterly  manner, 
and  the  strong  contrasts  and  soft  outlines  in  the 
picture  suggests  Rembrandt.  The  foreshortening 
of  the  right  hand  is  slightly  doubtful;  but  appar- 
ently the  warrior  is  pointing  out  of  the  window, 
perhaps  to  the  battle-field,  which  may  have  been  the 
scene  of  a  recent  victory. 

The  Virgin  and  St.  John  Adoring  the  Infant 
Christ,  by  Perugino,  is  a  painting  on  wood  in  oils. 
This  was  rather  an  unusual  vehicle  for  this  master, 
who  generally  employed  tempera;    the  picture  has 


24©        Ubc  Hrt  ot  tbe  pttti  ipalace 

been  restored  a  good  deal,  and  the  general  tone  is 
red  and  hard.  The  Virgin  kneels  with  hands  joined 
in  prayer,  and  regards  the  Infant,  who  sits  on  a 
very  full-stuffed  sack  or  bolster,  and  looks  at  his 
mother  without  comprehending  her  attitude.  The 
child  is  supported  by  an  attendant  angel.  He  is 
represented  as  a  very  natural  little  fat  thing,  with 
one  finger  in  his  mouth,  and  the  forefinger  of  the 
right  hand  raised,  —  probably  not  intended  to  sug- 
gest a  blessing,  though  enthusiastic  observers  might 
so  interpret  it.  The  angel  is  rather  insipid,  and, 
on  the  whole,  the  picture  is  not  among  Perugino's 
happiest  compositions;  but  the  little  kneeling  fig- 
ure of  the  young  St.  John,  behind  the  Virgin  (so 
disposed  in  the  perspective  that  it  would  be  impos- 
sible for  him  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  child  whom 
he  is  adoring),  is  very  prettily  handled.  The  land- 
scape in  the  background  is  most  delightful.  It  is 
as  romantic  as  the  setting  of  a  fairy-tale,  and  yet 
not  overdrawn  for  an  Umbrian  hillside.  The  detail 
on  the  robe  of  the  Virgin  and  the  angel,  and  the 
work  on  the  angel's  wings,  are  very  effective  and 
characteristic  of  Perugino's  use  of  gold. 

The  head  of  the  Virgin  is  really  a  very  beautiful 
work.  Not  only  is  the  expression  of  adoration  to 
be  seen  upon  her  face,  but  also  there  is  a  shade  of 
sorrow,  a  pathos,  as  she  looks  at  the  unconscious 
child,  and  yet  foresees,  as  she  was  usually  believed 


Ubc  Dall  of  tbe  HUat)  341 

to  have  foreseen,  all  that  is  in  store  for  him.  The 
drooping  eyelids  remind  us  of  those  of  the  Madon- 
nas of  Raphael,  particularly  the  Madonna  Granduca. 
This  head  may  have  been  one  to  which  the  youth 
gave  special  attention  when  he  came  under  the  mas- 
ter's influence.  The  head-dress  is  most  gracefully 
arranged,  and  is  an  integral  part  of  the  design  of 
the  head. 

Number  221  is  a  portrait  in  Titian's  school  of 
Constanza,  daughter  of  Ercole  Bentivoglio,  a  cap- 
tain of  Florence.  She  was  the  wife  of  Lorenzo 
Strozzi  of  Ferrara,  being  married  in  15 10.  This 
picture  was  painted  in  1520.  Later  she  married 
Filippo  Tornielli  of  Navarre. 

There  is  here  a  portrait  of  an  aristocratic  female, 
the  subject  of  which  is  not  known,  painted  by  Gior- 
gione.  The  woman  suggests  the  type  which  occurs 
in  Titian's  Sacred  and  Profane  Love  in  the  Bor- 
ghese  Gallery  in  Rome.  She  wears  a  wreath  of 
stiffly  wound  foliage,  which  seems  to  have  been  a 
fashionable  Venetian  head-dress  of  the  period;  she 
wears  gloves,  and  her  sleeves  are  composed  of  rib- 
bons, in  the  manner  of  Raphael's  Donna  Velata. 

A  portrait  of  a  scholarly-looking  man,  by  Hans 
Holbein,  hangs  here.  He  is  not  handsome,  but  is 
painted  with  such  truth  and  richness  of  finish  that 
he  appears  to  be  almost  good-looking.  The  painting 
of  the  hands  is  more  remarkable  than  anything  else. 


242        Ubc  Hrt  ot  tbe  ipittt  palace 

St.  Margaret,  by  Carlo  Dolci,  is  really  inexcus- 
able. A  stout  party,  with  a  double  receding  chin, 
she  is  insipid.  This  conception  is  one  of  the  worst 
examples  of  the  meretricious  features  of  this  school. 
It  must  have  been  intended  originally  as  a  portrait, 
and  afterwards  denominated  as  a  saint. 

The  Gravida  of  Raphael  is  one  of  the  instances 
of  the  pitiless  exactness  with  which  the  great  artist 
used  to  treat  portraiture.  This  is  doubtless  precisely 
as  the  model  looked.  One  would  not  be  cruel  enough 
to  say  that  there  was  an  idealized  line  in  it.  In 
finish  and  execution  it  is  a  masterpiece;  as  a  thing 
of  beauty,  —  well,  no  doubt  the  family  of  the  lady 
admired  it.  It  is  of  the  first  rank  in  technique; 
the  surfaces  of  linen  and  damask  are  like  those  of 
Del  Sarto.  The  foreshortening  of  one  hand  is  not 
like  Raphael.  Compared  with  the  portrait  of  Madel- 
lena  Doni,  however,  it  can  still  be  claimed  as  gen- 
uine. 

Parmigiano  painted  the  celebrated  but  unpleas- 
ing  picture.  Number  230.  The  Virgin,  in  a  blue 
mantle  and  robe,  leaning  upon  cushions,  is  the  cen- 
tral figure.  She  is  nothing  more  or  less  than  an 
affected  court  lady.  The  sleeping  child  lies  in  her 
arms.  Angels  at  one  side  are  adoring  the  infant, 
and  one  of  them  is  offering  him  a  crystal  vase. 
Near  a  portico  in  the  background  stands  an  old 
man  unrolling  a  scroll. 


XTbe  Iball  ot  tbe  iriiab  243 

The  painter  was  so  dissatisfied  with  this  picture 
that  he  never  finished  it.  Everything  in  the  pic- 
ture is  drawn  in  an  affected  and  exaggerated  way; 
the  figures  are  long-drawn  out;  even  the  columns 
of  the  portico  are  so  long  and  slim  that  they  are 
of  a  ridiculous  proportion;  and  as  to  the  neck  of 
the  Madonna,  it  is  so  long  and  sinuous  that  it  has 
caused  the  picture  to  be  named  "  The  Madonna 
of  the  Long  Neck."  Vasari  finds  it  "  full  of  grace 
and  beauty."  Parmigiano  was  principally  a  painter 
of  landscapes.  He  and  his  wife,  Ippolita,  both 
travelling  about  and  sketching,  drew  many  scenes 
for  various  Italian  collections.  It  was  on  one  of 
these  journeys  that  Parmigiano,  not  more  than 
forty-five  years  of  age,  died  of  a  fever  at  Rome. 
Like  so  many  persons  who  have  a  decided  ability  in 
one  line,  he  neglected  that  and  made  an  effort  to 
excel  in  one  to  which  he  was  not  adapted,  preferring 
music.  "  He  who  deceives  himself,  and  persists  in 
attempting  what  he  cannot  effect,  often  finds  that 
he  has  lost  what  he  does  know  and  possess  in  seek- 
ing to  acquire  that  which  he  can  never  attain.'* 
So  says  Vasari,  and  he  ought  to  know. 

The  Madonna  in  the  Assumption  by  Lanfranco, 
Number  231,  is  literally  swimming  up  to  heaven, 
assisted  by  an  angel  cherub,  very  like  those  of  Cor- 
reggio  at  Parma.  The  Virgin  is  preceded  by  an 
angel  of  maturer  aspect,  who  is  playing  the  violin 


244        Ube  Hrt  ot  tbe  ipitti  palace 

for  her  delectation,  while,  to  welcome  her,  appar- 
ently, are  three  small  angels  in  the  clouds,  singing 
out  of  a  book.  Altogether  a  strange  and  erratic 
idea  of  the  scene. 

In  Sustermans's  Holy  Family,  numbered  232, 
Victoria  della  Rovere  appears  as  the  Madonna,  with 
Cosimo  III.  as  an  infant,  and  St.  Joseph  represented 
by  the  chamberlain  of  her  husband,  Ferdinand  II. 

Guercino's  Susannah  and  the  Elders  next  claims 
a  passing  notice.  Susannah  is  represented  as  hav- 
ing an  unusually  uncomfortable  time  of  it  in  this 
picture,  for  the  elders,  not  content  with  gazing  from 
afar,  have  approached,  and  are  actually  removing 
her  draperies!  The  bath  itself  is  an  attractive  one, 
being  a  square  basin  of  marble  with  several  steps 
and  a  sedilia. 

A  Holy  Family  of  Rubens,  Number  235,  shows 
the  children  in  the  act  of  caressing  a  pet  lamb.  It 
is  a  delightfully  fresh  picture. 

Christ  Entering  the  House  of  Mary  and  Martha 
is  the  subject  of  a  picture.  Number  236,  by  Bassano. 
It  represents  a  domestic  interior;  there  is  no  ulti- 
mate wall,  the  dresser  being  placed  apparently  in 
the  landscape  background.  On  the  shelves  of  this 
dresser  are  rows  of  dishes;  in  the  foreground  on 
the  right  is  a  fireplace,  where  the  cook  is  engaged 
in  skimming  soup  from  a  kettle.  Lazarus  is  seated 
at  the  table  cutting  a  loaf  of  bread.    Martha,  rising 


Ube  Iball  of  tbe  irita&  24s 

from  the  table,  greets  Jesus,  who  is  entering  at  the 
left  through  an  arched  doorway.  Mary  is  already 
on  her  knees  at  the  door,  kissing  the  hem  of  his 
garment.  There  are  many  domestic  accessories : 
a  cat  and  a  dog  in  the  central  part  of  the  room; 
some  fowl  laid  on  a  napkin  on  the  ground;  and, 
on  the  left  side,  in  the  far  corner,  a  man  may  be 
seen  bringing  in  fish  in  a  basket. 

Leandro  da  Ponte,  a  son  of  Jacopo,  was  born  in 
Bassano  in  1558.  He  kept  a  magnificent  establish- 
ment, having  numerous  retainers,  who  used  to  go 
about  with  him,  carrying  his  gold  cane  or  his  mem- 
orandum book,  and  on  the  slightest  provocation  he 
would  wear  his  gold  insignia  of  St.  Mark  upon  a 
heavy  chain.  Bassano  was  always  nervous  for  fear 
of  being  poisoned,  and  had  tasters  to  try  all  his 
dishes.  He  was,  in  fact,  a  sort  of  Beau  Brummel 
in  an  Italian  setting,  and  was  more  or  less  a  subject 
of  mirth.    He  died  at  Venice  in  1623. 


CHAPTER    IX. 

THE   STANZA   OF   PROMETHEUS 

Amidst  all  the  glowing  realism  of  the  Pitti  Pal- 
ace, its  one  example  of  Fra  Angelico  might  almost 
be  passed  by  as  a  stiff,  cold,  "  early  "  picture,  un- 
less we  realized  that  in  any  work  of  this  unique 
master  there  is  sure  to  be  something  of  significance. 
Before  analyzing  the  picture,  it  is  well  to  consider 
what  a  contrast  there  is  between  the  work  of  Fra 
Angelico  and  that  of  many  whose  pictures,  upon 
a  superficial  glance,  appear  to  have  the  same  general 
qualities. 

In  the  first  place,  the  artist  was  a  Dominican 
friar.  A  monk,  living  the  unreal  life  of  a  monas- 
tery, with  his  time  devoted  to  prayer,  praise,  and 
painting,  it  is  not  to  be  wondered  at  if  the  repre- 
sentation of  natural  objects  came  less  easily  to  him 
than  the  production  of  celestial  visions.  He  was 
trained  near  Assisi,  and  might  be  called  the  father 
of  Umbrian  art;    he  received  some  influence  also 

from  the  early  Sienese  school. 

246 


Ubc  Stanaa  ot  iprometbeus         247 

He  was  a  spiritual  painter,  not  intellectual.  His 
was  a  most  pious  and  lofty  soul ;  from  early  youth 
his  ideal  had  been  to  devote  his  talents  to  the  Lord, 
and  the  delineation  of  the  face  of  Jesus  or  Mary 
was  a  sacrament  of  divine  service  to  his  mind. 
Should  a  man  whose  art  was  his  religion,  as  his 
religion  was  his  art,  dare  to  treat  the  spiritual  body 
which  he  attempted  to  portray  exactly  as  if  it  were 
a  portrait  of  an  earthly  woman?  No;  his  aim  was 
to  do  homage  with  the  purest  pigment,  the  finest 
gold,  the  most  unadulterated  lights,  as  he  conceived 
the  lights  of  heaven;  and,  as  we  gaze  upon  his 
conscientious  finish  and  delicate  lines  and  touches, 
we  begin  to  realize  that  there  is  more  here  than 
simple  miniature  painting;  there  is  reverence  so 
profound  that  it  forgets  sometimes  the  values  and 
effects  of  the  whole  in  its  ardour  to  accomplish  each 
detail  in  equal  perfection.  "  Angelico  lives  in  an 
unclouded  light,"  says  Ruskin;  "  his  shadows  them- 
selves are  colour,  —  his  lights  are  not  the  spots,  but 
his  darks."  One  must  be  lenient  to  some  technical 
defects  in  the  work,  for  the  sake  of  the  more  pre- 
cious qualities  which  are  too  rare  in  our  later  artists. 
In  him,  as  Ruskin  has  said,  there  is  "  the  full  out- 
pouring of  the  sacred  spirit." 

His  real  name  was  Giovanni.  He  was  called  An- 
gelico from  his  angelic  qualities,  and  after  his  death 
the  Church  conferred  upon  him  the  prefix  of  Beato-, 


wm « *»• 


rv  kXIl 


248        Xlbe  art  ot  tbe  ipttti  palace 

which  was  almost  as  much  an  honour  as  canoniza- 
tion. The  painter  of  Fra  AngeHco's  day  (1387— 
1455)  was  much  hampered  by  tradition.  In  most 
monasteries  there  were  artist-monks,  the  men  who 
frescoed  the  walls  and  illuminated  the  books  of  their 
convent;  and  they  followed  a  certain  text-book, 
which  was  used  in  such  religious  houses  (where 
models  were  not  encouraged  in  art!),  called  the 
*'  Byzantine  Guide  to  Painting,"  which  had  come 
down  from  the  tenth  or  eleventh  century,  containing 
exact  recipes  for  the  arrangement  and  treatment  of 
religious  subjects;  as,  for  instance,  the  following 
quotation :  "  On  the  character  of  the  physiognomy 
of  the  Mother  of  God,  —  The  most  Holy  Virgin 
is  in  her  middle  age.  Her  height  is  three  cubits; 
her  complexion  the  colour  of  wheat;  her  hair  and 
eyes  are  brown.  Grand  eyebrows  and  beautiful  eyes ; 
a  middle-sized  nose  and  long  fingers."  The  most 
didactic  directions  are  also  given  "  How  to  Paint  the 
Apocalypse,"  "  How  to  Represent  the  Tree  of  Jesse," 
etc.  Artists  were  not  expected  to  depart  from  these 
rules,  and  were  hardly  ever  known  to  do  so. 

Another  book,  a  "  Treatise  upon  Various  Arts," 
by  Theophilus,  a  monk  of  the  eleventh  century,  is 
a  fountainhead  of  quaint  information.  He  gives 
technical  points  which  were  also  strictly  observed. 
Theophilus  tells  how  to  grind,  prepare,  and  mix 
colours.     Imagine,  then,  an  eye  painted  according 


Ube  Stan3a  ot  Iprometbeu^         249 

to  this  recipe :  "  Mix  black  with  a  little  white  and 
fill  up  the  pupils  of  the  eyes;  add  to  it  yet  more 
white,  and  fill  in  the  eyes  on  both  sides."  For 
rendering  hair,  this  simple  suggestion  seems  to  have 
been  all-sufficient :  "  Mix  a  little  black  with  ochre, 
and  fill  in  the  hair,  and  mark  them  out  with  black." 
One  can  hardly  realize  that  these  perfunctory  con- 
ventional directions  were  all  the  art  training  (aside 
from  the  invaluable  education  of  personal  experi- 
ence) that  the  artists  of  the  early  period  received. 
But  behind  this  naive  and  insufficient  teaching  there 
lay  a  wonderful  spirit  of  devotion,  and  that  "  ca- 
pacity for  taking  infinite  pains  "  which  under  mod- 
ern conditions  develops  geniuses.  Listen  to  the 
preface  of  this  holy  man,  Theophilus,  and  tell  me 
if  you  do  not  feel  the  pathos  of  the  inadequate 
result  of  such  consecrated  labour.  "  I,  Theophilus, 
an  humble  priest,  servant  of  the  servants  of  God, 
to  all  wishing  to  overcome  sloth  of  the  mind  or 
wandering  of  the  soul  by  useful  manual  occupation, 
send  a  recompense  of  heavenly  price.  Skilful  in 
the  arts,  let  no  one  glorify  himself  inwardly,  as 
if  received  from  himself  and  not  from  above: 
but  let  him  be  thankful  in  the  Lord,  from  whom 
and  through  whom  all  things  are  received.  .  .  . 
Therefore,  most  beloved  son,  you  will  not  doubt 
that  the  Spirit  of  God  has  filled  your  heart  when 
you  have  adorned  his  temple.     Through  the  spirit 


250        xrbe  Hrt  of  tbe  Ipitti  palace 

of  Intelligence  you  have  acquired  the  faculty  of 
genius.  .  .  .  Through  the  spirit  of  piety  you  regu- 
late the  nature,  the  destination,  the  time,  the  meas- 
ure, and  the  means  of  the  work."  (And  here  follows 
a  touch  of  very  practical  religion. )  "  And  through 
a  pious  consideration,  the  price  of  the  fee,  that  the 
vice  of  covetousness  or  avarice  may  not  steal  in." 
Blessings  on  the  pure  soul  of  Theophilus!  Do 
not  these  old  pictures  in  Florence  take  on  a  new 
meaning  after  reading  his  exhortations?  With 
Browning : 

"  How  shall  we  prologuize,  how  shall  we  perorate, 
Utter  fit  things  upon  art  and  history  ? 
Feel  truth  at  blood-heat  and  falsehood  at  zero-rate, 
Make  of  the  want  of  the  age  no  mystery !  " 

With  a  tolerance,  then,  bred,  as  is  all  tolerance, 
of  understanding,  let  us  examine  this  picture  of 
Fra  Angelico's. 

Unfortunately,  it  is  not  a  very  creditable  specimen 
of  his  best  work,  and  it  is  a  good  deal  restored.  It 
is  framed  as  a  triptych.  In  the  centre  sits  the  Vir- 
gin with  the  Child  standing  on  her  knee,  giving  a 
blessing.  The  decorative  quality  of  the  halos  and 
accessories  are  charming.  The  persistence  of  mis- 
sal-painting on  a  large  scale  is  the  chief  impression 
received.  A  blue  mantle  over  a  pink  robe,  as  pre- 
scribed, clothes  the  Virgin.     The  Child  is  also  in 


DEPARTMENT  oF 


Ube  Stansa  of  prometbeus         251 

rose  colour.  In  her  right  hand  Mary  holds  a  box, 
probably  of  some  perfume  or  unguent.  This  is 
the  extent  of  the  central  composition,  —  not  orig- 
inal; the  delicate  work  in  the  background  should 
be  noticed.  On  the  left  is  St.  John  the  Baptist  hold- 
ing a  cross,  with  his  fur  robe  draped  by  a  long 
mantle.  In  the  same  panel  stands  St.  Dominic,  the 
founder  of  Fra  Angelico's  order,  holding  a  lily  and 
a  book.  Above  these  two  figures  is  an  exquisite 
little  Annunciation  angel  in  a  quatrefoil  ornament. 
On  the  right  of  the  triptych  are  St.  Peter  Martyr 
and  St.  Thomas,  who  holds  an  open  book  showing 
Gothic  lettering.  These  are  both  in  the  Dominican 
habit.  Above  them,  in  a  little  quatrefoil,  a  small 
figure  of  the  Virgin  balances  the  angel  on  the  other 
side.  Over  the  gilded  framework  of  the  tabernacle 
two  small  scenes  may  be  observed;  Dominicans 
preaching  and  exhorting  with  some  spirit,  painted 
with  more  independence,  since  these  scenes  were  not 
included  in  the  regularly  prescribed  rule  for  such 
a  picture.  The  faces  do  not  bear  comparison  with 
those  of  the  Paradiso  in  the  Academia,  nor  yet  with 
those  of  the  familiar  angels  with  musical  instru- 
ments which  surround  the  Madonna  of  the  Uffizi. 
Like  all  paintings  of  its  school,  it  is  more  interest- 
ing in  detail  than  in  mass.  It  was  painted  for  the 
monks  of  St.  Peter  Martyr. 

It  is  interesting  to  have  in  the  same  room  with 


^52         XTbe  Hrt  of  tbe  iPitti  palace 

Fra  Angelico*s  work  a  Madonna  by  Fra  Lippo 
Lippi.  Never  was  greater  variance  between  two 
monastic  artists.  Fra  Angelico  was  a  monk  by 
choice,  by  temperament;  Fra  Lippo  Lippi  was  a 
monk  through  circumstance.  His  father  and  mother 
dying  when  he  was  only  eight  years  old,  his  guar- 
dians sent  him  to  a  Carmelite  convent.  In  the 
durance  of  a  religious  house  (being  of  a  roving  and 
merry  temperament),  he  gave  the  good  monks  a 
deal  of  trouble.  He  early  developed  a  talent  for 
drawing,  using  his  time  in  making  caricatures,  so 
the  prior  became  interested  in  his  talent,  and  he 
was  instructed  in  art.  He  had  ample  opportunity 
for  studying  the  frescoes  of  Massaccio  in  the  Car- 
mine Chapel.  Otherwise  there  is  little  known  of 
his  life  except  Vasari's  romantic  story  of  his  love 
and  elopement.  This  rare  scapegrace  in  Orders 
conducted  himself  in  a  highly  scandalous  way  in 
the  monastery  to  which  he  had  been  consigned. 
"  You  should  not  take  a  fellow  eight  years  old," 
says  Fra  Lippo,  in  Browning's  poem,  "  and  make 
him  swear  to  never  kiss  the  girls ! " 

One  cannot  tell  the  story  in  better  words  than 
Vasari's,  full  of  the  flavour  of  their  time  and  the 
romance  of  the  episode.  "  Having  thus  received  a 
commission  from  the  nuns  of  Sta.  Margherita  to 
paint  a  picture  for  the  high  altar  of  their  church, 
he  one  day  chanced  to  see  the  daughter  of  Francesco 


Ube  Stansa  of  iprometbeus         253 

Buti,  a  citizen  of  Florence,  who  had  been  sent  to 
the  convent  either  as  novice  or  a  boarder.  Fra 
FiHppo,  having  given  a  glance  at  Lucrezia,  for  such 
was  the  name  of  the  girl,  who  was  exceedingly  beau- 
tiful and  graceful,  so  persuaded  the  nuns  that  he 
prevailed  upon  them  to  permit  him  to  make  a  like- 
ness of  her  for  the  Virgin  in  the  work  he  was  then 
executing  for  them.  The  result  of  this  was  that  the 
painter  fell  violently  in  love  with  Lucrezia,  and  at 
length  found  means  to  influence  her  in  such  a  man- 
ner that  he  led  her  away  from  the  nuns  on  a  certain 
day,  .  .  .  and  he  bore  her  from  their  keeping.  By 
this  event  the  nuns  were  deeply  disgraced,  and  the 
father  of  Lucrezia  was  so  grievously  afflicted  thereat 
that  he  never  more  recovered  his  cheerfulness,  and 
made  every  possible  effort  to  regain  his  child.  But 
Lucrezia,  whether  retained  by  fear  or  by  some  other 
cause,  would  not  return,  but  remained  with  FilippO', 
to  whom  she  bore  a  son,  who  was  also  called  Filippo, 
and  who  eventually  became  a  most  excellent  and 
very  famous  painter  like  his  father." 

Fra  Filippo  was  a  little  later  than  Fra  Angelico, 
being  born  in  14 12  and  dying  in  1469,  but  their 
periods  were  near  enough  together  for  them  to  have 
done  work  of  a  similar  kind.  And  yet  how  differ- 
ent! No  Byzantine  Manual  here!  The  joy  of  por- 
traying a  lovely  woman  has  superseded  the  holy 
zeal  recommended  by  Theophilus.     A  very  human 


254         XTbe  Hrt  of  tbe  pittt  palace 

man  did  his  best  realistic  work  in  this  picture.  The 
child,  instead  of  bestowing  a  blessing  on  the  world, 
is  amusing  himself  like  any  baby,  holding  up  the 
seed  of  a  pomegranate,  and  rubbing  his  toes  and 
the  soles  of  his  feet  gently  together,  as  little  chil- 
dren do  when  they  are  interested.  Of  course  there 
may  be  a  deposit  of  serious  teaching  in  this  act,  — 
the  seed  of  the  pomegranate  may  have  been  used, 
in  a  half-pagan  way,  to  symbolize  the  shadow  of 
death.  The  Virgin  is  one  of  the  loveliest  types 
of  Florentine  art.  Fra  Filippo  Lippi  has  painted 
many  beautiful  Madonnas,  but  a  more  exquisite 
one  than  this  was  never  delineated  by  him.  The 
expression  on  her  face  is  evidently  intended  to  be 
subdued;  the  eyebrows  are  raised  and  the  lids 
drooping;  certain  conventional  methods  of  express- 
ing sadness  have  been  observed;  and  yet  a  touch 
in  the  corners  of  the  eye  and  mouth  would  produce 
a  most  witching  and  arch  expression. 

Browning  has  delightfully  summed  up  the  charm 
and  feeling  of  Fra  Lippo's  work.  Lippo  is  telling 
how  the  monks  criticize  his  work  because  of  his 
venturing  to  paint  nature  as  he  sees  it : 

"  How,  what's  here  ? 
Quite  from  the  mark  of  painting,  bless  us  all ! 
Faces,  arms,  legs,  and  bodies,  like  the  true 
As  much  as  pea  and  pea  !  'tis  devil's  game  ! 
Your  business  is  not  to  catch  men  with  show, 


MADONNA    AND    CHILD 
By  Fra  Filippo  Lippi ;  in  the  Stanza  of  Prometheus 


PIVERSITt  W  rillliyi 


XTbe  Stan3a  of  iprometbeus         255 

With  homage  to  the  perishable  clay  — 

But  lift  them  over  it,  —  ignore  it  all ! 

Make  them  forget  there's  such  a  thing  as  flesh. 

Give  us  no  more  of  body  than  holds  soul, 

Paint  the  soul,  never  mind  the  legs  and  arms ! " 

Lippo's  soliloquy  follows  this  tirade: 

'*  A  fine  way  to  paint  soul,  by  painting  body 
So  ill  the  eye  can't  stop  there,  —  must  go  farther  — 
And  can't  fare  worse  !  .  .  . 
Why  can't  a  painter  lift  each  foot  in  turn. 
Make  his  flesh  liker,  and  his  soul  more  like? 
Both  in  their  order?     Take  the  prettiest  face. 
The  Prior's  niece  —  Patron  Saint.     It  is  so  pretty 
You  can't  discover  if  it  means  hope,  fear. 
Sorrow  or  joy.     Won't  beauty  go  with  these  ? 
Suppose  I've  made  her  eyes  all  right  and  blue. 
Can't  I  take  breath  and  try  to  add  life's  flash 
And  then  add  soul,  and  heighten  them  threefold  ?  .  ,  . 
Or,  say  there's  beauty  with  no  soul  at  all  — 
(I  never  saw  it  —  put  the  case  the  same) 
If  you  get  simple  beauty  and  naught  else 
You  get  about  the  best  thing  God  invents 
That's  somewhat ;  and  you'll  find  the  soul  you've  missed 
Within  yourself,  when  you  return  him  thanks." 

Verily  Fra  Lippo  had  grasped  the  principle  ex- 
pressed by  D'Annunzio,  "  to  create  with  joy."  But 
it  is  the  joy  of  earth,  not  of  heaven,  —  there  is  a 
sensual  appreciation  in  his  painting  not  to  be  found 
in  that  of  the  saintly  Angelico. 


25^        tTbe  Hrt  ot  tbe  pittt  palace 

The  Madonna  of  the  Pomegranate,  which  hangs 
in  the  Pitti,  is  a  round  picture,  and  is  said  to  be  a 
portrait  of  Fra  Lippo's  mistress,  Lucrezia  Buti. 
The  proprieties  of  art  are  observed  in  so  far  as 
the  pink  garment,  blue  robe,  and  white  veil  indicate. 
The  composition  of  the  picture  is  quite  elaborate. 
It  is  almost  a  biography  of  the  Virgin,  —  Anna 
and  Joachim  are  seen  meeting  at  the  Golden  Gate, 
and  on  the  other  side  is  represented  the  birth  of 
Mary,  with  the  usual  well-strapped-up  bambino  be- 
ing displayed  to  its  admiring  friends.  Burckhardt 
considers  these  scenes  in  the  background  to  rep- 
resent the  Visitation  and  the  Birth  of  the  Baptist. 
It  is  a  matter  of  interpretation;  such  scenes  might 
easily  be  rendered  almost  alike.  In  every  way  this 
is  one  of  the  most  satisfactory  of  the  pictures  in 
the  gallery. 

Filippino  Lippi,  the  son  of  Fra  Lippo,  has  also 
a  Holy  Family  in  this  room,  Number  347.  It  is 
a  round  picture,  the  Virgin  in  the  centre  adoring 
the  infant,  who  lies  on  the  ground.  They  are  sur- 
rounded by  exquisite  angels,  equal  to  some  of  Be- 
nozzo  Gozzoli's;  one  of  them  standing  at  the  left 
is  showering  rose  leaves  upon  the  baby.  On  the 
right  are  two  angels  kneeling,  with  their  wings 
just  fluttering  and  hands  folded.  The  little  Bap- 
tist is  kneeling  before  the  child.  A  balustrade  sur- 
rounds the  grass-plot  on  which  the  scene  is  set,  and 


XTbe  Stansa  ot  prometbeus         257 

a  rose  hedge  is  seen  all  around,  while  in  the  dis- 
tance is  a  peaceful  pastoral  view. 

Filippino  was  not  a  pupil  of  his  father,  because 
Fra  Lippo  died  when  Filippino  was  still  a  youth; 
he  was  born  in  1460.  He  studied  with  Botticelli, 
and  shows  in  his  work  the  influence  of  his  master. 
It  must  have  annoyed  the  nuns  of  Sta.  Margherita 
in  Prato,  when  Filippino,  after  all  that  had  occurred, 
was  employed  to  do  some  of  his  best  work  directly 
across  from  their  church;  but  these  things  will 
happen.  Most  of  his  life  he  painted  in  Florence, 
but  did  work  in  Lucca  and  some  other  cities  as 
well.  An  anecdote  is  told  of  his  management  of 
perspective,  and  his  ability  to  paint  still  life.  In 
one  of  his  pictures  there  is  a  cleft  represented  in 
the  ground,  which  was  so  naturally  rendered  that 
one  evening,  when  some  one  knocked  at  the  studio 
door,  one  of  the  pupils  ran  to  hide  in  this  crack  some- 
thing which  he  did  not  want  to  be  seen.  Filippino 
was  taken  off  in  the  height  of  his  power  by  a  sud- 
den and  virulent  attack  of  quincy,  while  he  was 
working  upon  a  Deposition  for  the  Church  of  the 
Nunziata.  He  died  in  1505,  in  the  forty-fifth  year 
of  his  age.  He  had  inherited  the  happy  tempera- 
ment of  his  jovial  father,  and  was  popular  and 
beloved.  In  readiness  and  inventive  genius,  this 
artist  has  rarely  been  surpassed.     His  father's  sin 


9$^        Ubc  Hrt  of  tbe  IPitti  palace 

was  more  than  atoned  for  in  his  blameless,  cheerful 
life. 

Another  picture  by  Filippino  hangs  here,  a  nar- 
row, long  panel,  representing  scenes  from  the  Death 
of  Lucrezia.  The  pathetic  story  of  Lucrezia  is  well 
known:  how  this  chaste  and  virtuous  wife  of  Col- 
latine  became  the  victim  of  the  rapacious  Tarquin, 
and  afterwards  killed  herself.  The  episode  chosen 
by  Filippino  for  the  subject  of  his  panel  is  the  mo- 
ment when  Lucrezia,  having  assembled  her  friends 
and  relatives  and  told  them  of  her  distress,  has 
stabbed  herself.  The  picture  is  divided  into  two 
scenes.  The  first  represents  the  dying  Lucrezia  at 
the  door  of  the  house,  supported  by  Brutus,  who 
is  pulling  the  dagger  out  of  her  heart.  Near  by 
are  the  husband,  father,  and  other  friends,  with 
expressions  of  grief  and  horror.  In  Shakespeare's 
graphic  words : 

•*  Storm-still,  astonished  with  this  deadly  deed 
Stood  Collatine  and  all  his  lordly  crew : 
Till  Lucrece's  father  that  beholds  her  bleed 
Himself  on  her  self-slaughtered  body  threw: 
And  from  the  purple  fountain  Brutus  drew 
The  murderous  knife,  and  as  it  left  the  place 
Her  blood,  in  poor  revenge,  held  it  in  chase." 

The  second  division  shows  the  corpse  of  the  wife 
of  Collatine  in  the  midst  of  the  Court  of  Justice, 
with  the  populace  and  the  relatives  all  about,  some 


XTbe  Stansa  of  IPrometbeus         259 

testifying  to  their  grief  and  others  to  their  rage. 
In  the  centre,  near  Lucrezia,  Brutus  presses  for- 
ward, at  the  right,  holding  a  dagger,  and  inciting 
the  populace  to  vengeance. 

"  When  they  had  sworn  to  this  advised  doom 
They  did  conclude  to  bear  dead  Lucrece  hence 
To  show  her  bleeding  body  thorough  Rome, 
And  so  to  publish  Tarquin's  foul  offence ; 
Which  being  done  with  speedy  diligence 
The  Romans  plausibly  did  give  consent 
To  Tarquin's  everlasting  banishment." 

The  Tondo  of  a  Madonna,  Number  348,  is  pos- 
sibly not  by  Botticelli,  as  usually  supposed,  and  is 
said  by  many  critics  to  be  a  studio  piece,  the  work 
of  his  pupils.  It  has  some  of  Sandro's  character- 
istics, and  will  serve  to  illustrate  certain  phases  of 
his  manner  until  one  has  opportunity  to  examine, 
in  the  royal  apartments  of  the  palace,  the  more 
representative  and  undoubted  work  of  the  master, 
the  recently  rediscovered  Pallas  and  the  Centaur. 

Mr.  Walter  Pater  has  analyzed  the  quality  of 
Botticelli's  Madonnas :  "  Hardly  any  collection  of 
note  is  without  one  of  these  circular  pictures,  into 
which  the  attendant  angels  depress  their  heads  so 
naively.  Perhaps  you  have  sometimes  wondered 
why  these  peevish  looking  Madonnas,  conformed 
to  no  acknowledged  or  obvious  type  of  beauty,  at- 
tract you  more  and  more,  and  often  come  back  to 


26o        trbe  art  ot  tbe  pitti  palace 

you  when  the  Sistine  Madonna  and  the  Virgins  of 
Fra  AngeHco  are  forgotten.  At  first  contrasting 
them  with  these,  you  may  have  thought  that  there 
was  something  mean  or  abject  even,  for  the  abstract 
Hnes  of  the  face  have  Httle  nobleness,  and  the  colour 
is  wan.  .  .  .  Her  trouble  is  in  the  very  caress  of 
the  mysterious  child  whose  gaze  is  always  far  from 
her,  and  who  has  already  that  sweet  look  of  devo- 
tion which  men  have  never  been  able  altogether  to 
love,  and  which  still  makes  the  born  saint  an  object 
of  almost  suspicion  to  his  brethren." 

In  this  tondo  and  in  the  Madonna  of  the  Rose- 
Bush  near  by,  these  qualities  are  traceable,  although 
not  in  so  marked  a  degree  as  in  the  two  round 
paintings  by  Botticelli  in  the  Uffizi. 

In  the  centre  of  the  circular  picture  are  the  mother 
and  child.  The  Virgin,  seated,  is  holding  the  in- 
fant, and  he  reaches  up  to  kiss  her  with  a  thoroughly 
human  affection.  On  the  right  the  Archangel  Ga- 
briel is  seen,  leaning  upon  a  balustrade.  He  carries 
the  Annunciation  lily,  and  is  bowing  in  adoration. 
At  the  left  the  young  St.  John,  with  a  slender  cross 
resting  against  his  shoulder,  stands  with  his  hands 
crossed  upon  his  bosom.  He  wears  the  robe  of 
camel's  hair.  Behind  him  stands  the  Archangel 
Michael  (very  badly  drawn;  this  face  is  certainly 
not  by  Botticelli),  carrying  a  naked  sword.  In  the 
foreground  lie  two  books,  one  open  and  one  closed, 


I 


Zbc  Stanza  of  prometbeus         261 

as  so  often  seen  in  religious  art.  Probably  this 
picture  was  touched  up  by  the  master,  or,  if  laid  in 
and  commenced  by  him,  there  are  certain  evidences 
that  pupils  also  had  a  hand  in  it. 

"  Botticelli  lived  in  a  generation  of  naturalists," 
says  Walter  Pater,  "  and  he  might  have  been  a  mere 
naturalist  among  them.  But  this  was  not  enough 
for  him.  He  is  a  visionary  painter."  Sandro  Bot- 
ticelli was  born  in  Florence  in  1447,  the  son  of  a 
tanner,  Mariano  di  Vanni  Filipepi ;  "  Botticelli  " 
was  a  nickname,  and  signifies  "  little  cask."  Sandro 
was  a  pupil  of  Filippo  Lippi.  Count  Plunkett  very 
aptly  describes  the  peculiar  position  held  by  Botti- 
celli in  the  art  O'f  his  time :  "  In  Botticelli's  work 
we  find  an  escape  from  the  rigidity  of  the  earlier 
school,  and  yet  a  survival  of  its  spiritual  feeling. 
Though  his  angularity  and  squareness  of  modelling 
may  remind  us  of  his  immediate  predecessors,  he 
has  a  grace  and  freedom  that  they  never  reached." 

There  is  no  classical  feeling  in  him.  Mediaeval 
treatment  is  applied  to  Greek  myth  or  classic  orna- 
ment, so  that  the  result  was  a  well-combined  Greek 
and  Gothic.     He  was  a  mystic. 

Botticelli  painted  in  tempera.  His  pictures  are 
not  oil  paintings.  Casual  observers  do  not  always 
realize  what  is  the  difference  between  his  method 
and  that  of  other  painters  whose  pictures  may  hang 
near  his  in  a  gallery.     There  is  a  sort  of  bloom; 


262         Ube  art  ot  tbe  ipttti  palace 

as  Browning,  though  not  in  this  connection,  says, 
"  A  common  grayness  silvers  everything."  It  is 
the  dusty  quahty  of  the  water-pigment  contrasted 
with  the  oil  vehicle. 

Tempera  consisted  of  the  paint  ground  to  a  pow- 
der, gums  of  various  kinds,  glue,  parchment  size, 
and  even  sometimes  a  paste  of  flour  and  water. 
Egg  beaten  up  with  water  was  used  by  Cennino 
Cennini,  who  wrote  a  treatise  in  1437,  dealing  with 
all  kinds  of  technicalities  in  art.  A  glaze  of  albumen 
was  sometimes  applied  to  the  finished  work,  and 
sometimes  also  oil  was  rubbed  in  when  all  was 
quite  dry  and  set.  Cennini's  instructions  have  some 
of  the  mediaeval  naivete  of  Theophilus :  "  And 
now  by  the  grace  of  God,"  he  says,  "  I  should  like 
to  teach  you  to  colour  pictures.  You  must  know 
that  painting  pictures  is  the  proper  employment  of 
a  gentleman ;  with  velvet  on  his  back,  he  may  paint 
what  he  pleases.  .  .  .  You  must  temper  your  col- 
ours properly  with  yolk  of  egg,  always  putting 
as  much  of  the  yolk  as  of  the  colours  which  you 
would  temper  with  it.  The  colours  must  be  ground 
very  fine,  like  water."  After  several  other  minute 
directions,  Cennini  evidently  recalls  that  he  is  ad- 
dressing a  "  gentleman  in  velvet,"  and  he  adds : 
"  And  now  it  is  time  to  leave  your  work  and  rest 
yourself  for  a  short  space  .  .  .  you  should  always 
take  pleasure  in  your  work."    Later,  after  a  disser- 


Ube  Stanaa  of  prometbeus         263 

tation  on  the  painting  of  fabrics,  he  says :  "  These 
draperies  will  please  you  much,  particularly  the 
draperies  in  which  you  paint  God."  He  gives  di- 
rections "  How  to  colour  water  or  a  river  with  or 
without  fish."  The  "  explicit "  or  conclusion  to 
this  interesting  old  book  is  touching  in  its  sweet, 
unworldly  devotion  to  the  conception  of  art  as  a 
religious  ministry.  So  concludes  Cennino  Cennini : 
"  Praying  that  the  most  high  God,  our  Lady,  St. 
John,  St.  Luke  the  evangelist  and  painter,  St.  Eus- 
tachius,  St.  Francis,  and  St.  Anthony  of  Padua 
may  give  us  strength  to  sustain  and  bear  in  peace 
the  cares  and  labours  of  this  world;  and  that  to 
those  who  study  this  book  they  will  give  grace  to 
study  it  well  and  to  retain  it,  so  that  by  the  sweat 
of  their  brows  they  may  live  peaceably  and  maintain 
their  families  in  this  world  with  grace,  and  finally 
in  that  which  is  to  come  live  with  glory  for  ever 
and  ever.     Amen." 

The  same  spirit  is  observable  in  Botticelli's  work. 
Even  when  he  is  painting  a  pagan  deity,  he  has  a 
quaint,  ascetic  way  of  dealing  with  the  subject.  In 
fact,  as  a  master  in  the  Renaissance,  when  the  reac- 
tion against  so-called  religious  painting  was  merged 
in  the  passion  for  imitating  nature  exactly,  he 
stands  almost  unique.  One  can  imagine  what  must 
have  been  the  teaching  of  Filippo  Lippi  to  the  young 
Botticelli,  —  how  he  must  have  rejoiced  in  his  bud- 


264        XTbe  Hrt  ot  tbe  pitti  IPalace 

ding  genius,  and  his  kinship  with  the  soul  of  the 
art  which  was  so  fast  sHpping  away  and  being  re- 
placed on  all  sides  by  new  ideals.  The  joy  to  the 
master  must  have  been  great  when  he  found  that 
there  was  to  be  at  least  one  more  painter  of  the 
sweet,  peaceful  saints  of  an  elder  day,  and  of  the 
intellectual,  attractively  human  faces  which  are  so 
far  removed  from  the  beautiful  dolls  with  full  pink 
cheeks  who  were  winning  their  way  into  the  popu- 
lar heart  on  every  side.  **  Botticelli's  method,"  says 
Count  Plunkett,  "  is  generally  the  converse  of  that 
of  Raphael,  for  he  first  makes  his  picture  in  his  in- 
tellect, and  then  translates  it  into  the  language  of 
every-day  life.  Raphael  lifted  his  art  above  the 
common.  To  Botticelli  the  common  was  but  the 
symbol  of  that  which  was  beyond  human  expres- 
sion." He  delighted  in  long,  slim  figures,  and  often 
gives  action  in  the  same  manner  as  Perugino,  by 
poising  the  figure  on  one  foot  and  allowing  the  other 
to  have  the  appearance  of  dragging.  This  is  no- 
ticeable in  the  Pallas,  which  will  be  treated  later. 

Botticelli  is  the  artist  of  a  transition.  He  stands 
at  the  point  where  the  Gothic  and  the  Renaissance 
meet.  As  Michelangelo  is  a  painter  of  the  physical, 
the  muscles,  and  the  anatomy,  and  as  Titian  is  the 
painter  of  the  smooth  and  healthy  flesh,  so  Botticelli 
is  the  painter  of  the  nerves.  This  is  one  reason  why 
his  pictures,   so  long  unappreciated,  appeal   so  to 


Ube  Stan3a  of  IPrometbeuB         265 

the  active,  strenuous  modern  temperament.  Every 
normal  person  of  any  age  can  enjoy  Raphael;  it 
takes  a  certain  amount  of  culture  and  a  certain 
strain  of  the  exotic  to  appreciate  Botticelli. 

He  uses  more  brilliant  colour,  generally,  in  the 
upper  half  of  a  picture  than  in  the  foreground. 
As  a  draughtsman,  he  is  supreme;  as  an  anatomist, 
he  is  extremely  faulty.  Some  critics  complain  that 
his  pictures  are  only  tinted  drawings.  His  colour 
is  subordinate  to  his  lines,  which  are  firm  and  un- 
erring, although  not  always  accurately  placed  as 
regards  proportion.  He  almost  uses  an  outline, 
and  never  allows  his  colour  to  model  his  lines  away. 
Some  criticize  his  rendering  of  landscape,  but  when- 
ever he  does  introduce  it,  it  is  very  happily  treated ; 
and  flowers  are  painted  with  much  detail  and  botan- 
ical accuracy.  The  real  and  the  imaginary  are 
blended  in  his  work.  When  he  represents  a  classic 
story,  he  does  not  do  as  the  Renaissance  artists  did 
—  try  to  reproduce  Greek  types  in  a  Greek  spirit; 
rather,  he  takes  the  story  independently  of  all  the 
tradition  of  its  former  rendering  in  painting  or 
sculpture,  and  illustrates  it  according  to  the  dic- 
tates of  his  own  mediaeval  aesthetic  nature. 

His  colouring  and  drawing  are  both  characteristic 
only  of  himself.  They  follow  no  preconceived 
standard.  He  delights  in  carmines  and  violets,  and 
has  a  wonderful  way  of  glazing  a  colour  so  as  to 


266        Ube  Hrt  ot  tbe  iptttt  palace 

give  it  lucidity  and  transparency.  He  had  a  great 
sense  of  what  is  decorative  in  art,  and  indulges 
freely  in  ornament  and  in  fine  detail,  heightening 
his  effects  by  delicate  hatchings  O'f  gold. 

His  figures  are  always  in  action;  frequently  this 
is  overdone;  they  float,  and  are  often  too  lightly 
poised  for  earth.  While  his  detail  work  is  exquisite, 
he  lacks  a  feeling  for  proportion  and  general  har- 
mony. It  is  the  grace  and  expression  in  his  figures 
—  almost  a  transitory  quality  —  which  charm.  His 
power  does  not  lie  in  depicting  actual  contour  and 
shape.  His  people  are  illusive  and  stimulate  the 
imagination.  His  pictures  occupy  the  same  rela- 
tion to  art  as  that  held  by  Spenser's  "  Faerie 
Queene "  to  literature.  Does  any  one  know  ex- 
actly what  this  quality  is,  and  yet  does  any  one  fail 
to  enjoy  it? 

The  Madonna  of  the  Rose-Bush,  hanging  near 
by,  is  considered  to  be  genuine  by  most  authorities, 
but  doubted  by  Morelli,  to  whose  scientific  tests  it 
does  not  entirely  respond.  It  is  chiefly  remarkable, 
on  a  first  glance,  for  the  strange  experiment  in  com- 
position, which  has  led  Botticelli  to  dispose  the  fig- 
ures horizontally  instead  of  vertically;  the  extreme 
stoop  of  the  Virgin's  figure  and  that  of  the  Child, 
as  she  lowers  him  to  embrace  St.  John,  leading  to 
this  unprecedented  result.  There  is  a  very  beauti- 
fully painted   rose-bush  in  the  background,    from 


MADONNA    OF    THE    ROSE-BUSH 
By  Botticelli ;  in  the  Stanza  of  Prometheus 


«.^\\V#^  ...-.0-^ 


XTbe  Stansa  of  ptometbeus         267 

which  the  picture  derives  its  name.  Ulmann  con- 
siders it  to  be  by  BotticelH  himself;  these  experi- 
ments and  whimsical  arrangements  of  figures  are 
quite  characteristic  of  the  work  of  Sandro.  It  has 
certain  things  about  it  which  suggest  the  work  of 
some  of  the  modern  decorative  painters,  especially 
those  of  the  English  school. 

Botticelli  probably  never  painted  the  portrait 
which  is  called  La  Belle  Simonetta,  or,  if  he  did, 
it  is  certainly  not  the  lady  in  question.  This  is 
no  beauty,  with  her  long-nosed  profile  and  her  long, 
crooked  neck,  and  clad  in  a  quiet  brown  dress  and 
white  head-dress.  She  is  certainly,  as  Woltmann 
says,  "  Simple  to  excess."  La  Belle  Simonetta  was 
the  mistress  of  Giuliano  de  Medici,  and  it  seems 
safe  to  assert,  from  what  one  knows  of  the  aesthetic 
tastes  of  the  family,  that  this  is  not  named  aright. 
Well  painted,  though  in  a  rather  wooden  way,  it 
is  still  unconvincing;  however  it  is  not  impossible 
that  Botticelli  may  be  responsible  for  it.  Vasari 
mentions  a  portrait  of  Simonetta  by  Botticelli,  but 
it  is  in  the  collection  of  the  Due  d'Aumale,  in  France. 
She  was  a  Genoese,  the  daughter  of  one  Cattani, 
and  married  to  a  noble  member  of  the  family  of 
Vespucci.  This  panel  represents  a  much  less  ex- 
alted personage,  probably  of  less  expensive  tastes. 

There  is  a  quaint  picture  in  this  room,  Number 
336,  an  allegorical  subject,  treated  by  an  unknown 


268        Ubc  Hrt  ot  tbe  IPittt  palace 

Florentine  artist  of  the  fourteenth  century.  Across 
the  picture  is  inscribed  the  motto,  ''  Nulla  Deterior 
Pestis  Quam  Familiaris  Inimicus"  which  is  to  say, 
in  substance,  that  there  is  no  worse  evil  than  the 
treachery  of  a  trusted  friend.  A  youth  is  seen  in 
the  background,  playing  with  a  serpent.  The  crea- 
ture is  twining  itself  gracefully  round  his  ankles, 
and  he  seems  to  be  enjoying  its  society.  In  the 
foreground  the  same  youth  has  experienced  a  re- 
verse, —  the  snake  has  turned  upon  him,  crushing 
his  ribs,  and  striking  at  him,  as  he  lies  overthrown 
on  the  ground.  It  is  not  possible  to  follow  the  full 
significance  of  the  picture,  for  it  was  probably 
painted  in  commemoration  of  some  private  injury, 
but  this  part  is  clear  enough.  At  the  right  sits  the 
Eternal  Father,  under  a  laurel-tree,  just  about  to 
discharge  a  bolt  of  winged  lightning,  which  he  holds 
in  his  hand.  In  the  background  is  the  city  of  Flor- 
ence; the  cupola  of  the  cathedral  may  be  seen,  and 
also  the  tower  of  the  Palazzo  Vecchio.  This  picture 
is  rendered  in  the  hard  early  manner  of  Florentine 
art,  but  the  faces  are  expressive. 

The  portrait,  Number  337,  is  that  of  Ferdinand 
I.  de  Medici,  who  was  the  sixth  son  of  Cosimo  I., 
and  succeeded  to  the  throne  of  Tuscany  in  1587, 
after  having  removed  for  that  purpose  his  brother, 
Francesco  I.,  and  his  wife,  Bianca,  as  has  been  re- 
lated already.     A  great  patron  of  the  arts,  Ferdi- 


Ube  Stansa  ot  prometbeus         269 

nand,  who  had  been  a  cardinal  ever  since  he  was 
fourteen  years  old,  was  diplomatic  enough  to  con- 
tinue his  external  sanctity  of  life  for  some  years, 
until  the  rumour  of  his  crime  had  blown  over. 
When  he  looked  over  the  accumulated  treasure  of 
his  deceased  brother,  he  was  heard  to  remark  sen- 
tentiously  that  if  only  Francesco  had  realized  the 
importance  of  soul-culture,  he  would  not  have 
wasted  his  time  in  collecting  jewels  and  bibelots. 

He  arranged  the  historic  match  between  his  niece, 
Marie  de  Medici  and  Henry  IV.  of  France.  He 
was  a  great  diplomatist,  his  galleys  being  recognized 
in  all  Italian  ports.  His  titles  ran  thus :  "  Don 
Ferdinando,  by  the  grace  of  God ;  O'f  Tuscany,  the 
third  Grand  Duke;  of  Florence  and  Siena,  the 
fourth  Duke;  a  Prince  of  Capistrano;  Count  of 
Petigliano  and  Suianus;  Lord  of  Porto-Ferario, 
in  the  Isle  of  Elbe;  Lord  of  Castiglione,  of  Pos- 
canio,  and  the  Isle  of  Giglio ;  the  Third  Great  Mas- 
ter of  the  Religious  and  Military  Order  of  St. 
Stephen." 

Where  his  personal  interests  were  menaced,  he 
administered  justice  freely  and  firmly;  bandits  were 
instantly  put  to  death,  and  he  had,  in  the  Pitti 
Palace,  little  recesses  in  the  walls,  into  which  anon- 
ymous missives  might  be  dropped,  to  inform  him 
of  any  plots  that  might  be  discovered  or  hatched. 
He  was  the  leading  merchant  of  his  dominions. 


270         'G^be  Hrt  of  tbe  ptttt  palace 

There  are  many  statues  and  inscriptions  to  his  hon- 
our in  Tuscany,  for  he  was  more  universal  in  liis 
patronage  of  all  classes  of  workmen  than  any  of  the 
Medici.  Yet  he  lived  in  a  constant  dread  of  being 
poisoned  in  his  turn;  and,  in  his  advancing  age, 
spent  his  time  concocting  antidotes  to  all  known 
poison.  He  would  not  allow  a  large  and  indis- 
criminate group  of  retainers  in  his  court,  partly 
from  suspicion,  not  wishing  to  be  surrounded  by 
more  people  than  he  could  watch.  He  was  mar- 
ried in  1588  to  Christina,  daughter  of  Charles  III., 
Duke  of  Lorraine.  His  eldest  son,  Cosimo  HI., 
succeeded  him  in  Tuscany.  He  died  in  February, 
1609. 

Number  338  is  a  Madonna  of  the  school  of  the 
Bellini.  It  is  a  pleasing  bit  of  the  highly  finished 
early  Venetian  work.  At  the  left,  the  Virgin,  in 
a  red  robe  and  a  green  mantle,  holds  the  infant  on 
her  knee.  A  closed  book  is  in  his  right  hand.  The 
child  is  playing  with  a  bird.  At  his  feet  St.  Cath- 
erine kneels  in  adoration,  her  profile,  which  is  quite 
on  Greek  lines,  being  shown.  St.  James,  in  a  rather 
disinterested  attitude,  occupies  the  right  of  the  cen- 
tre, also  holding  a  large  closed  book  and  a  pilgrim's 
staff.  The  combination  of  a  landscape  background 
on  one  side  and  a  curtain  on  the  other  is  employed. 

There  are  some  reasons  for  questioning  the  au- 
thenticity of  the  picture  representing  the  Epiphany, 


Ube  Stansa  of  ptometbeus         271 

which  is  generally  ascribed  to  Pinturicchio.  Pin- 
turicchio,  who  was  bom  in  Perugia  in  1454,  was 
a  painter  of  the  Umbrian  school,  dealing  in  minute 
detail,  and  a  lover  of  pageantry,  using  opalescent 
colours  and  sumptuous  decoration.  In  these  par- 
ticulars a  casual  observer  would  be  inclined  to  think 
that  this  picture  exhibited  most  of  his  characteris- 
tics; but  the  drawing  is  not  fine  and  clear  enough, 
the  feminine  faces  not  full  enough  of  the  tender 
beauty  which  is  inseparable  from  the  work  of  this 
artist;  it  is  more  probably  the  work  of  his  pupils, 
possibly  under  his  general  supervision.  It  is  a 
charming  picture,  and  it  is  reproduced  here  because 
it  is  almost  the  only  example  in  the  Pitti  of  that 
crowded,  conscientious,  literal-minded  dealing  with 
large  sacred  subjects  characteristic  of  the  Umbrian 
masters  of  the  period.  Perugino  is  much  broader; 
he  would  have  been  content  to  have  painted  the 
main  figures  with  a  landscape  background,  but  Pin- 
turicchio and  his  followers  delighted  in  portraying 
the  actual  number  of  persons  concerned  in  a  group, 
selecting  such  subjects  as  gave  them  opportunity 
to  revel  in  a  pageant.  The  effect  of  a  festal  pro- 
cession winding  away  in  the  background,  as  it  does 
in  this  picture,  was  something  in  which  they  espe- 
cially rejoiced. 

In  analyzing  this   picture,  one  observes  at  the 
right  St.  Joseph  standing  and  looking  with  pride 


272        XTbc  Hrt  ot  tbe  pittf  iPalace 

and  joy  upon  the  Madonna  and  Child.  The  Virgin 
is  a  sweet,  womanly  type,  but  not  so  softly  radiant 
as  the  Madonnas  of  this  master  usually  are.  There 
is  lacking  that  quality  which  Ruskin  notes  in  the 
Madonnas  of  Pinturicchio,  "  in  whom  the  hues  of 
the  morning  and  the  solemnity  of  the  evening,  the 
gladness  in  accomplished  promise,  the  sorrow  of 
the  sword-pierced  heart,  are  gathered  into  one  lamp 
of  ineffable  love."  The  child  stands  on  his  mother's 
knee,  with  his  hand  upraised  in  blessing,  and  is 
quite  majestic  in  his  pose.  They  are  sitting  under 
an  extremely  tall  shed  of  very  light  construction. 
In  fact  it  is  one  of  those  purely  imaginary  buildings 
of  the  fifteenth  century,  which  would  be  of  no  real 
service  as  a  shelter. 

Before  the  child  kneels  one  of  the  kings,  an  aged 
man,  with  flowing  beard  and  white  hair.  He  has 
just  placed  his  crow^n  at  the  infant's  feet,  and  is  also 
offering  a  vase  of  costly  perfume.  His  draperies 
are  soft  and  clinging,  but  are  richly  trimmed  with 
gems.  These  precious  stones  are  painted  with  as 
much  care  as  any  of  the  more  important  parts  of 
the  picture.  Behind  him  stands  another  king,  in 
an  equally  rich  but  even  more  ornate  costume.  He 
wears  a  turban,  and  is  carrying  a  vase  similar  to 
that  presented  by  the  first  king.  His  turban  would 
indicate  that  he  might  be  intended  for  the  king  who 
so  often  figures  as  a  negro;   but  he  is  here  repre- 


THE    EPIPHANY 
By  Pinturicchio  ;  in  the  Stanza  of  Prometheus 


..  ^.S\ 


XTbe  Stanza  ot  iptometbeus         273 

sented  as  a  white  man,  with  a  pointed  beard,  and 
rather  Florentine  than  otherwise  in  his  style.  The 
third  king  stands  at  the  left  of  this  one,  dressed  all 
in  rich  velvets,  with  silken  hose  and  jewelled  hat 
and  collar.  His  crown  is  noticeable  above  his  hat, 
as  is  also  the  Moorish  king's  above  his  turban.  He 
has  an  extremely  straight  profile.  His  hair  is  in 
tight  ringlets  in  the  style  of  the  Sienese  youths  of 
that  artist's  day.  In  one  thing  the  painter  has  been 
successful :  he  has  studied  types ;  and  each  man  or 
woman  in  this  minute  work  is  absolutely  different 
from  every  other.  Each  is  a  separate  study  O'f  per- 
sonality, worked  out  from  a  love  of  truth.  There 
is  no  indication  here  of  a  picture  ordered  to  repre- 
sent the  Nativity  at  so  much  for  the  square  foot. 
It  is  the  work  of  a  loving,  careful  man  who  has 
done  his  best.  The  figures  thus  far  described  fill 
the  foreground. 

Immediately  back  of  them  come  the  Wise  Men: 
a  solemn  philosopher  with  a  long  beard  at  the  right ; 
a  cheerful,  stout  philosopher  next  him,  looking  off 
with  smiling  countenance,  full  of  hope,  to  the  fu- 
ture; and  an  intellectual  old  man,  on  the  extreme 
left,  with  bared  head  and  short  hair.  The  collar 
of  his  mantle  is  embroidered  most  exquisitely.  Be- 
tween him  and  the  second  Wise  Man  is  a  youthful 
head,  which,  from  its  irrelevance  at  this  point  in 
the  composition,  is  probably  the  painter's  portrait; 


»74        XTbe  Hrt  of  tbe  pitti  palace 

it  is  quite  like  the  portrait  of  Pinturicchio  himself 
in  the  Cathedral  Library  in  Siena. 

In  the  third  row  behind,  the  faces  get  more  con- 
fused, and  are  evidently  fitted  in  to  fill  spaces ;  this 
results  in  many  of  them  being  out  of  drawing,  where 
only  a  part  of  a  head  or  face  shows.  One  quaint 
head  is  seen  behind  the  second  Wise  Man,  —  a  full, 
jovial  face,  wearing  a  round  cap  set  with  medallions 
of  jewels,  laughing  merrily,  and  evidently  just 
catching  sight  of  the  infant  toward  whom  all  these 
people  are  wending  their  way.  The  expression  of 
the  mouth,  with  its  upturned  corners,  is  droll,  and 
is  the  effort  of  an  early  painter  to  portray  that  most 
elusive  of  all  expressions  of  the  human  face,  —  the 
smile.  Only  Leonardo  has  thoroughly  succeeded  in 
catching  it. 

A  gay  cavalcade  follows  in  the  distance;  camels, 
men,  riders  on  fiery  steeds,  and  Turks  with  their 
turbans,  are  seen  filing  through  a  rocky  gorge  in 
the  mountainside,  coming  from  the  pleasant  pastures 
beyond.  The  road  may  be  seen  winding  off  for  a 
great  distance  beyond  the  figures.  As  an  allegorical 
complement  to  the  scene,  in  the  background,  at  the 
right,  behind  the  hut,  may  be  descried  the  scene  of 
the  Flight  into  Egypt;  figured  as  usual  by  Joseph 
walking,  and  Mary  and  the  Child  riding  on  an  ass ; 
in  the  sky  far  above,  and  hardly  to  be  noticed  un- 
less attention  is  called  to  it,  is  an  angel  flying,  direct- 


TL\)c  Stansa  ot  prometbeus         275 

ing  them  on  their  way.  Probably  this  is  the  angel 
which  appeared  to  Joseph  in  his  vision,  for  Joseph 
is  also  seen  asleep  a  little  farther  up  the  road.  At 
the  base  of  the  picture,  on  the  two  opposite  sides, 
occur  the  arms  of  the  Vitelli  family.  The  picture 
was  painted  for  them  at  Citta  del  Castello. 

Altogether  the  picture  is  interesting  as  illustrat- 
ing the  mediaeval  tenderness,  and  the  labour  which 
an  artist  was  willing  to  expend  before  time  was  held 
at  such  a  prohibitive  premium. 

The  fascinating  child's  portrait,  by  Sustermans, 
of  Cosimo  III.  de  Medici,  represents  the  infant  son 
of  that  good  Ferdinand  II.,  who  married  Vittoria 
della  Rovere.  Apparently  the  Medici  were  all  des- 
tined to  be  either  brutes  or  prigs.  Cosimo  III.  was 
a  religious  fanatic.  He  was  morose  and  gloomy, 
yet  grasping  and  avaricious  withal,  and  his  subjects 
were  taxed  unmercifully,  and  the  money  was  simply 
rolled  up  in  the  state  exchequer,  while  the  court 
was  carried  on  in  a  parsimonious  and  bigoted  man- 
ner. The  only  extravagance  of  which  Cosimo  was 
guilty  was  the  purchasing  of  saints'  relics.  An 
amusing  account  of  his  taste  in  this  direction  is 
given  in  Mark  Noble's  "  Medici  Memoirs."  He 
says :  '*  The  hand  of  such  a  saint,  or  the  toe  of  such 
a  confessor,  were  acquisitions  of  the  utmost  im- 
portance.   The  regalia  of  Tuscany  would  have  been 


»76        Ubc  Brt  ot  tbe  ptttt  palace 

endangered  by  the  offer  of  a  whole  dried  or  pickled 
martyr !  " 

Cosimo  had  been  a  great  traveller  in  his  early 
youth,  and  was  handsomely  entertained  in  England. 
In  1 66 1  his  father  married  him  to  Margaret  Louisa, 
daughter  of  the  Duke  of  Orleans;  she  was  a  great 
beauty,  and  had  been  brought  up  in  the  gay  French 
court,  and  little  relished  the  austere  life  to  which 
she  was  thus  doomed.  In  1670  Cosimo  had  suc- 
ceeded to  the  throne,  and  the  court  became  even 
more  intolerable  to  the  young  Frenchwoman.  Cos- 
imo objected  equally  to  the  lively  manners  of  the 
French,  —  in  fact,  the  young  couple  were  so  entirely 
uncongenial  that  Margaret  returned  to  her  father. 

Cosimo's  religious  mania  developed  alarmingly 
as  he  grew  older.  At  one  time  he  was  seized  with 
a  sudden  desire  to  embrace  the  Sacred  Napkin  in 
Rome;  as  none  but  a  canon  of  St.  Peter  could  do 
so,  he  gave  the  Pope  no  peace  until  he  had  created 
him  a  canon.  So  he  arrayed  himself  in  canonical 
garb,  and  repaired  to  Rome,  luxuriating  in  the 
ecclesiastical  dissipations  incident  to  the  ceremony 
of  displaying  the  Holy  Napkin.  Afterwards  he 
was  permitted  to  bestow  a  public  blessing,  which 
greatly  gratified  his  vanity. 

He  often  used  to  go  about  Florence  arrayed  like 
an  ordinary  citizen.  On  one  occasion  a  beautiful 
woman  came  to  him,  and  besought  him  to  intercede 


XTbe  Stansa  of  iprometbeus         277 

with  the  Duke  Cosimo  III.  for  her  husband's  par- 
don, —  the  unfortunate  gentleman  had  been  ban- 
ished. Cosimo  promised  to  do  what  he  could,  and 
the  pardon  was  soon  received.  At  another  time, 
when  in  the  clerical  capacity  he  had  taken  it  into 
his  head  to  receive  confessions,  a  fair  penitent  con- 
fided to  him  that  she  wished  to  reform  her  life; 
and  he  gave  her  the  necessary  500  crowns  to  admit 
her  into  a  convent. 

The  grand  duchy  extended  its  hospitality  to 
the  Trappists  during  the  reign  of  Cosimo  III.  When 
he  became  confined  to  the  house  by  failing  health, 
he  had  some  skilled  mechanics  and  pageant  man- 
agers come  and  arrange  a  procession  of  saints'  efH- 
gies,  so  that  on  the  day  of  his  festival,  each  calendar 
saint  would  appear  by  clockwork;  the  duke  would 
then  prostrate  himself  before  the  image.  Cosimo 
III.  died  in  1723,  having  held  the  sceptre  for  over 
fifty  years,  and  having  done  nothing  of  note. 

The  Magdalen  Taken  to  Heaven,  by  Zucarri,  is 
a  strange  picture  and  a  strange  treatment  of  the 
subject.  The  scene  is  in  the  clouds,  —  a  large  ex- 
panse, with  small  figures,  is  the  motive.  In  the 
centre  the  Magdalen  floats  up  to  heaven,  nude,  ex- 
cept that  she  is  covered  from  head  to  foot  with  a 
filmy  veil,  which  only  serves  to  enhance  the  impres- 
sion of  nakedness.  Below,  on  the  earth,  are  her 
straw  matting  and  an  altar  with  flowers  upon  it. 


278        Ube  Hrt  ot  tbe  ptttt  palace 

The  clouds  are  full  of  cherubs ;  the  scene  is  almost 
as  theatrical  as  a  ballet  spectacle;  angels  in  the 
taste  of  the  late  sixteenth  century  hover  about  with 
their  hair  neatly  parted,  playing  on  harps,  lutes, 
and  viols.  Farther  up,  the  celestial  choir  is  seen 
performing  upon  a  pipe-organ,  and  singing  their 
"  joy  over  the  sinner  that  repenteth." 

A  pair  of  pictures  by  Migna,  painted  from  de- 
signs by  Baccio  Bandinelli,  are  numbered  367  and 
378;  they  represent  the  Creation  of  Eve,  and  the 
Angel  Driving  Adam  and  Eve  out  of  the  Garden 
of  Eden.  In  the  first  picture  Adam  is  shown  sleep- 
ing peacefully  in  a  careless  attitude,  while  the  Al- 
mighty, represented  as  an  old  man,  summons  Eve 
forth.  The  woman's  figure,  springing  into  life,  is 
of  course  inferior  to  that  painted  by  Michelangelo, 
but  has  much  the  same  attitude.  In  the  second  pic- 
ture, the  first  man  and  woman  are  being  driven 
out  of  the  garden.  All  is  confusion,  rapid  action, 
and  ire.  The  angel  is  positively  in  a  temper;  and 
his  victims  are  twisted  with  terror  as  they  flee  from 
his  wrath. 

The  Holy  Family  of  Lorenzo  di  Credi  is  delight- 
ful. It  is  a  circular  picture,  St.  Joseph  and  the 
Virgin  kneeling  in  the  cattle-shed  adoring  the  holy 
Child,  who  lies  with  his  head  supported  on  a  bunch 
of  fagots.  By  an  original  thought,  the  artist  has 
represented  the  ox  and  ass  kneeling  on  their  front 


Ube  Stan3a  of  prometbeus         279 

legs!  The  works  of  Lorenzo  di  Credi  are  always 
characterized  by  a  tender  religious  sentiment,  and 
also  a  wonderful  degree  of  finish.  He  was,  in  fact, 
almost  too  particular  about  the  cleanliness  of  his 
colours,  and  was  quite  an  aesthetic  eccentric;  he 
had  each  shade  of  every  colour  ground  separately, 
never  mixing  his  pigments,  so  that  often  he  would 
have  as  many  as  thirty  colours  on  his  palette  at 
once;  and  for  each  shade  he  used  a  separate  brush. 
He  was  also  morbidly  careful  not  to  have  any  move- 
ment going  on  in  his  studio,  for  fear  of  raising 
dust.  He  was,  in  fact,  what  modern  artists  would 
call  a  crank.  But  the  results  are  very  lovely.  If 
there  had  been  no  other  means  of  attaining  the  end, 
his  means  would  have  been  justified.  As  Vasari 
says,  however,  "  There  should  in  all  things  be  ob- 
served a  certain  measure,  and  it  is  always  good  to 
avoid  extremes,  which  for  the  most  part  are  in- 
jurious." Lorenzo  di  Credi  was  born  in  1453,  and 
died  in  1536.  His  father  had  been  a  miniaturist, 
and  doubtless  some  of  Lorenzo's  superlatively  neat 
ways  were  inherited  from  the  necessarily  careful 
habits  of  this  early  teacher. 

The  only  specimen  of  the  work  of  Luca  Signo- 
relli  in  the  Pitti  Gallery  is  a  Holy  Family,  and  it  is 
not  very  representative  of  his  best  manner.  The 
Virgin,  at  the  right,  stands,  in  a  robe  of  harmonized 
reds,  blues,  and  yellows,  holding  the  infant,  who 


aSo        xrbe  Hrt  of  tbe  pittt  ipalace 

appears  to  be  in  a  rollicking  mood,  lifting  one  small 
foot,  and  evidently  causing  much  astonishment  to 
St.  Catherine,  who  sits  at  the  table  on  the  other  side, 
raising  one  hand  in  exclamation,  while  in  the  other 
she  holds  a  pen  in  the  attitude  of  one  preparing  to 
write.  St.  Joseph,  rather  a  secondary  piece  of  work, 
introduced  apparently  for  the  sake  of  filling  the  com- 
position, leans  one  hand  on  the  shoulder  of  the  saint, 
and  seems  to  be  speaking  to  hei'.  The  Madonna  is 
rather  lacking  in  expression,  as  is  also  St.  Joseph. 
St.  Catherine,  who  has  a  preternaturally  small  waist 
for  the  period,  is  more  vital  than  any  of  the  others, 
but  it  is  the  simple  face  of  the  peasant,  not  a  study 
of  refined  womanhood.  Luca  Signorelli  was  a  real- 
ist, as  we  know  from  his  frescoes  in  Orvieto,  where 
he  must  be  seen  to  be  fully  understood. 

Ghirlandajo's  Epiphany  is  a  painting  of  the 
very  early  Renaissance,  executed  while  tradition  still 
governed  the  representation  of  sacred  scenes.  In 
the  centre  is  seen  the  lowly  cattle-shed.  Within, 
the  kings  do  homage  to  the  Holy  Child,  who  is  held 
by  his  mother.  Many  others  are  gathered;  the 
Wise  Men,  the  shepherds,  and  the  animals  attend 
to  render  in  humble  worship  what  service  lies  in 
their  power. 

"  A  brilliant  easel  picture,  charming  for  its  com- 
bination of  the  qualities  of  Leonardo  and  Credi," 
is  the  testimony  of  Crowe  regarding  the  Holy  Fam- 


Ube  Stan3a  ot  ptometbeus         281 

ily  by  Albertinelli,  Number  365.  The  infant  Jesus 
is  resting  on  the  ground,  his  swathing  clothes  so 
loosened  that  he  may  feel  the  freedom  of  all  his 
limbs.  The  mother  is  adoring  in  a  rather  conven- 
tional way,  but  the  chief  charm  of  the  picture  lies 
in  the  crouching  figure  of  an  angel  on  the  left,  who 
is  offering  to  the  child  the  symbols  of  the  Passion; 
these  he  takes  as  a  baby  would  take  any  toys  that 
were  given  to  it.  He  holds  the  nails  in  his  left 
hand ;  he  is  about  to  take  the  cross  from  the  angel, 
who  is  extending  it  to  him,  also  an  olive-branch 
and  a  crown  of  thorns.  In  the  clouds  above  are 
three  angels  holding  a  scroll  bearing  the  inscrip- 
tion, "  Gloria  in  Excelsis  Deo''  If  the  picture  were 
of  no  other  value,  it  would  be  interesting  for  the 
charming  bit  of  landscape  so  delicately  painted  in 
the  central  distance. 

A  delightful  Florentine  portrait.  Number  372,  in 
the  costume  of  the  early  fifteenth  century,  is  by 
Castagno.  The  subject  has  a  clean-shaven,  inter- 
esting face,  and  is  dressed  in  a  dull  red  doublet, 
and  wears  a  red  cap,  from  which  a  long  scarf  hangs 
over  his  shoulder  in  a  dashing  sweep.  His  hair 
is  curly,  and  his  whole  air  breezy  and  alert.  He 
is  a  link  between  the  Middle  Ages  and  the  Renais- 
sance. 

Andrea  del  Castagno  was  an  interesting  person- 
ality, and  by  his  portraits  we  may  see  that  he  was 


282         Ube  Htt  ot  tbe  pitti  palace 

able  to  catch  subtle  personal  qualities  in  a  likeness. 
His  first  artistic  inspiration  was  under  rather  strange 
circumstances.  He  was  born,  in  1403,  on  a  little 
farm  in  Castagno,  and  had  lived  a  plain  country 
life  from  that  time  until  he  grew  almost  to  man- 
hood. One  day,  while  he  was  a  cowherd,  he  hap- 
pened to  be  caught  in  the  rain,  and  ran  for  shelter 
to  a  small  house,  where  lived  a  man  who  made  his 
living  by  painting  pictures  for  the  fairs.  Just  at 
this  time  the  artist  was  employed  on  a  little  taber- 
nacle which  a  countryman  had  ordered.  Andrea, 
the  cowherd,  was  immediately  interested;  he  had 
never  before  seen  any  one  draw  or  paint,  and  the 
idea  delighted  him.  When  he  returned  home,  a 
new  life  was  awakened  in  him,  and  he  spent  much 
time  experimenting,  using  such  pigments  as  char- 
coal, and  scratching  with  a  stylus  on  the  wall. 
Finally  the  fame  of  this  talented  farm-hand  reached 
his  neighbour,  Bernardetto  de  Medici,  who  owned 
a  great  estate  in  this  region,  and  he  investigated 
the  case,  and  invited  the  boy  to  Florence  to  be  edu- 
cated by  the  best  artists.  Immediately  he  made 
progress,  and  was  soon  recognized  as  one  of  the 
painters  of  his  generation. 

Castagno  seems  to  have  had  an  inherent  ability 
for  depicting  varied  emotions,  and  his  straightfor- 
ward disposition,  so  long  fostered  by  the  uncon- 
ventional life  of  the  farm,  led  him  to  paint  without 


Ube  Stansa  of  prometbeus         283 

flatteiy  and  with  much  more  realism  than  was  usual 
among  his  contemporaries.  But  some  of  the  brutish 
nature  of  the  beasts  with  which  he  had  grown  up 
had  clung  to  him;  he  was  impetuous  and  ungov- 
erned  in  his  hates.  He  disliked  his  associate  and 
competitor,  Domenico  Veneziano,  and,  with  all  his 
savage  instincts  aroused,  he  lay  in  wait  for  him 
one  dark  night,  and  murdered  the  artist.  He  had 
disguised  his  own  appearance,  and  had  returned 
instantly  after  this  dastardly  act  to  his  studio,  where 
he  was  found  quietly  working  when  they  came  to 
tell  him  of  the  news  of  the  crime.  He  ran  out, 
exclaiming,  "  Alas,  my  brother !  "  and  fell  upon  the 
dead  body  with  much  simulation  of  grief.  The 
murderer  was  not  suspected  during  his  lifetime. 
No  one  knew  why  he  had  elected  to  paint  his  own 
portrait  as  Judas  in  the  Last  Supper,  as  he  did  soon 
after  this  event,  in  the  Convent  of  St.  Appolonio. 
But  on  his  death-bed  the  weight  of  his  evil  deed 
was  too  heavy  for  him  to  bear,  and  he  confessed 
it,  charging  the  priest  to  publish  his  guilt,  so  that 
no  innocent  person  might  ever  suffer  for  his  crime. 
The  tragic  and  dramatic  career  of  Castagno  came 
to  an  end  in  1477. 

Number  374  is  an  Ecce  Homo  by  Sodoma.  It  is 
not  equal  in  appreciative  feeling  to  his  noble  Christ 
Bound  to  the  Column,  which  visitors  to  Siena  will 
remember.     He  has  another  picture  in  the  Stanza 


284        Ube  Hrt  ot  tbe  ptttt  palace 

of  Prometheus,  a  portrait  of  a  man,  with  good  red 
tones  predominating,  Number  382.  He  wears  a 
rakish  hat,  which,  combined  with  the  intense  ex- 
pression of  his  face,  and  the  energetic  movement 
of  his  hand,  —  he  is  in  the  act  of  expounding  or 
demonstrating,  —  is  striking  and  original.  The 
whole  picture  is  very  vital.  "  Razzi  "  (Sodoma) 
*'  appears  a  very  eminent  master  of  the  greatest 
taste,"  writes  his  contemporary,  Annibale  Caracci, 
"  and  few  such  pictures  are  to  be  seen." 

Among  the  most  picturesquely  irregular  lives  of 
the  Renaissance  stands  Sodoma,  the  artist  of  Siena, 
whose  real  name  was  Razzi  or  Bazzi.  Gifted  with 
a  strong  sense  of  humour  and  grotesque,  this  man 
was  greatly  misunderstood,  dwelling  among  an  un- 
imaginative and  severe  set  of  people.  Had  he  lived 
in  our  generation,  no  doubt  he  would  have  been 
recognized  as  one  of  the  erratic  geniuses  to  which 
we  are  so  devoted.  He  was  made  much  of  in  Siena 
from  the  first,  a  fact  which  seems  to  have  annoyed 
Vasari,  who  can  hardly  speak  temperately  of  this 
unique  man,  who  seems  to  have  rubbed  him  the 
wrong  way.  Sodoma  was  a  man  of  much  joyous- 
ness  and  cheer  of  nature,  careless,  pleasure-loving, 
ready  to  be  a  jest  himself  if  it  would  but  serve  to 
create  a  good  laugh.  Probably  he  was  not  a  digni- 
fied figure,  as  Vasari  thinks  all  artists  should  be, 
not  taking  himself   seriously  enough  to  suit   the 


Zbc  Stan3a  ot  prometbeu6         285 

florid  biographer.  His  character  was  in  lighter 
vein,  possibly  not  of  great  depth.  Such  people  hold 
their  place  in  this  world  of  sorrows,  and  are  not 
to  be  entirely  despised.  A  buffoon  he  may  have 
been,  but  he  was  a  buffoon  only  in  his  life;  his 
art  is  the  most  delicate  and  spiritual  of  all  Sienese 
work  of  his  period. 

Sodoma,  1479— 1554,  obtained  a  nickname,  Mat- 
taccio,  meaning  arch  fool,  —  a  name  given  him  in 
sympathetic  waggery,  and  intended  to  be  almost 
an  endearment.  He  laughed  at  this  pleasantry, 
often  making  sonnets  upon  the  subject,  and  sing- 
ing them  to  his  lute.  He  kept  an  assorted  array 
of  strange  pets,  which  must  have  been  highly  divert- 
ing to  a  person  of  his  temperament,  for  he  had 
together  badgers,  squirrels,  apes,  and,  on  a  larger 
scale,  dwarf  asses  and  ponies,  which  he  kept  for 
racing;  he  also  had  a  raven  which  was  a  great 
talker,  so  that,  as  Vasari  expresses  it,  with  disgust, 
"  The  dwelling  of  this  man  seemed  like  the  very  ark 
of  Noah." 

When  Sodoma  was  engaged  to  paint  a  picture, 
and  the  price  was  too  small,  he  did  not  take  much 
pains  with  the  work,  having  withal  a  frugal  and 
practical  streak,  in  spite  of  his  generous  and  jovial 
exterior.  He  was  not  so  careless  of  material  things 
as  some  who  watched  his  haphazard  life  might  have 
been  led  to  infer.     One  of  his  patrons  once  com- 


286        XTbe  Hrt  of  tbe  iptttl  palace 

plained  that  he  did  not  consider  that  Sodoma  had 
put  his  best  work  into  a  certain  order.  ''  My  pen- 
cil," replied  II  Mattaccio,  "  only  dances  in  harmony 
with  the  sound  of  coins.  If  you  care  to  pay  more, 
I  am  capable  of  doing  better  work."  He  was  frank, 
at  least.  Sodoma  was  quite  a  fop,  dressing  himself 
in  brocade  doublets,  with  a  short  cloak  of  cloth  of 
gold,  and  a  chain  about  his  neck.  Vasari,  who  can 
never  forgive  him,  exclaims,  "  Best  suited  to  a  Jack 
Pudding  or  a  mountebank." 

When  Leo  X.  ascended  the  papal  throne,  Sodoma 
saw  his  opportunity.  He  immediately  painted  the 
most  bewitching  nude  figure  that  he  could  portray, 
and  sent  it  as  a  present  to  his  Holiness.  Sodoma 
had  read  the  pontiff's  tastes  aright ;  he  was  promptly 
remunerated  and  made  a  cavalier  by  the  delighted 
Pope.  Sodoma  was  now  a  recognized  power,  and 
began  to  give  up  painting  as  assiduously  as  for- 
merly, amusing  himself  with  horse-racing  and  such 
sports.  He  won  conspicuously  in  the  race  of  San 
Bernaba ;  his  horse  had  an  ape  on  its  back,  —  one 
of  his  numerous  zoological  acquisitions,  —  and  it 
captured  the  prize,  much  to  the  indignation  of  seri- 
ous old  "  betters."  So  did  this  foolish,  clever  feath- 
erweight squander  his  time  and  his  money;  when 
he  grew  old,  he  was  left  almost  destitute,  and  died 
in  a  hospital  in  Siena. 

Lorenzo  Costa,  a  painter  of  Mantua  and  Ferrara 


Ube  Stansa  ot  iprometbeus         287 

between  1460  and  1535,  has  a  fine  interesting  ex- 
ample of  his  work  in  the  Stanza  of  Prometheus : 
a  portrait  of  Giovanni  II.  Bentivoglio,  in  a  doublet 
which  fastens  in  the  back,  and  with  a  close  cap  on 
his  head.  His  hair  is  chopped  off  in  the  Florentine 
fashion.  He  has  a  heavy  chain  about  his  neck,  and 
is  quite  an  imposing  personage.  This  portrait,  Num- 
ber 376,  is  full  of  strong  brown  tones,  and  is  broadly 
treated  with  fine  round  modelling.  The  picture 
came  from  the  Isolani  collection  in  Bologna.  This 
is  one  of  the  few  specimens  of  the  paintings  of 
Lorenzo  Costa  in  Florence.  He  was  an  intelligent 
follower  of  Francia. 

The  Epiphany,  by  Pontormo,  which  hangs  here, 
numbered  379,  represents,  on  a  long,  low  panel, 
crowds  of  figures  coming  from  the  surrounding 
plains.  On  a  slight  hill,  at  the  right,  the  Virgin 
and  Child  are  seen  under  a  shed;  the  Wise  Men 
are  bowing  before  them.  The  three  kings  follow 
them  in  procession,  with  their  retainers ;  at  the  left 
the  horses  are  being  unladen.  In  the  background 
is  seen  a  city.  At  the  right  the  shepherds,  having 
withdrawn,  are  seated  upon  some  rocks.  A  portrait 
of  the  artist,  facing  the  observer,  may  be  detected. 
One  of  the  Wise  Men  is  in  the  act  of  kissing  the 
foot  of  the  infant. 

There  are  two  pleasant  pastorals  by  Bassano; 
one  is  the  Scene  in  a  Vineyard,  Number  383;   the 


288        XTbe  Htt  of  tbe  ptttl  iPalace 

rustics  are  gathering  the  grapes.  One  rustic,  on 
the  left,  is  in  a  tree,  reaching  certain  high  portions 
of  the  vine;  below,  one  is  pouring  the  fruit  from 
baskets  into  vats.  Two  oxen  are  seen  in  the  left 
part  of  the  picture,  who  have  been  employed  in 
drawing  a  large  tub.  On  the  ground  near  the  cen- 
tre is  a  woman  on  her  knees,  drinking  juice  from 
the  vat  out  of  a  cup.  In  the  middle  of  the  com- 
position is  a  boy  treading  the  grapes  in  a  small  vat. 
On  the  right  is  seen  another  woman,  who  is  arrang- 
ing a  shoulder-slat  between  two  baskets,  so  that 
they  may  the  more  easily  be  carried.  A  dog  is  seen 
on  this  side.  A  man  and  woman  in  the  background, 
right,  are  examining  vines.  In  the  fields  beyond 
may  be  distinguished  a  sower. 

The  other  rustic  scene  by  Bassano  represents  peo- 
ple who  have  evidently  ^st  moved  to  a  new  region, 
and  are  about  to  build  their  home.  At  the  right 
are  seen  several  men  and  women  busily  working 
about  a  house,  sawing  the  beams,  constructing  the 
roof,  and  putting  up  the  walls;  in  the  centre  the 
domestic  animals  are  corralled,  and  await  patiently 
the  issue.  The  poultry  are  with  them,  except  where 
a  stray  hen  has  wandered  out  to  search  for  food. 
At  the  left  a  woman,  kneeling  on  the  ground,  is 
unpacking  a  chest  of  utensils ;  pans,  jugs,  etc.,  piles 
of  linen,  an  axe,  and  other  implements  of  household 
convenience  He  about  her.    Farther  back  two  women 


/ 


Ube  Stansa  of  prometbeus         289 

are  making  a  fire,  blowing  it  with  the  bellows,  and 
evidently  about  to  cook  a  repast.  A  rainbow  is 
seen  in  the  distance,  and  a  ray  of  sunlight  striking 
down  through  the  clouds. 

A  decorative  panel.  Number  385,  is  the  picture 
of  Christ  in  the  Garden,  by  Girolamo  da  Carpi.  The 
central  arrangement  is  quite  conventional ;  the  three 
disciples  sleeping  in  the  foreground,  and,  just  be- 
yond, the  kneeling  figure  of  Christ  receiving  a  chal- 
ice from  an  angel.  At  the  two  ends  of  the  picture 
are  a  couple  of  ovals,  representing  respectively  a 
man  without  hope  looking  into  a  grave,  and  a  flying 
figure  opposite,  typifying  the  resurrection. 


CHAPTER   X. 

THE    STANZA    DELLA    STUFA    AND    THE    STANZA    OF 
THE  EDUCATION  OF  JUPITER 

In  the  Stanza  della  Stufa  there  are  four  large 
wall  frescoes  by  Pietro  da  Cortona;  and  this  is 
the  first  opportunity  for  studying  this  artist  with 
any  satisfaction,  as  his  frescoes  in  the  other  halls 
are  all  on  the  ceilings,  and  are  difficult  to  examine. 
Here  the  painter  has  depicted,  in  allegorical  figures, 
the  four  ages.  Gold,  Silver,  Iron,  and  Brass. 

The  Age  of  Gold  is  symbolized  by  the  innocent 
play  of  childhood,  unharmed  among  wild  beasts; 
in  the  Age  of  Silver  pastoral  figures  are  seen.  Some 
are  milking  their  kine,  and  indulging  in  agriculture. 
Soldiers  appear  in  the  Age  of  Brass,  exhibiting  to 
their  leader  the  wounds  they  have  received  in  battle, 
claiming  recompense  at  his  hands  for  their  wrongs. 
In  the  Age  of  Iron  are  more  soldiers,  breaking  into 
a  temple,  maltreating  those  who  have  fled  there 
for  refuge.  There  are  two  figures  among  the  cap- 
tives of  war  in  the  fresco  representing  the  Age  of 

290 


Ube  Stansa  bella  Stuta  291 

Brass,  —  a  man  and  a  woman,  who  are  sitting  in 
an  attitude  of  dejection  on  the  ground  in  the  left 
corner  of  the  picture,  as  may  be  seen  in  the  illustra- 
tion. The  frescoes  are  all  in  florid  taste,  and  just 
about  appropriate  for  theatre  curtains;  they  are 
not  thoughtfully  conceived  or  skilfully  drawn.  Ber- 
retini,  called  Pietro  da  Cortona,  was  the  founder 
of  a  school  in  Cortona  in  the  late  seventeenth  cen- 
tury. He  and  his  scholars,  it  is  needless  to  remark, 
appeared  at  a  time  when  art  was  at  a  low  ebb,  and 
their  pictures  are  mannered  and  exaggerated. 

Pietro  da  Cortona  was  born  in  1596,  and  did 
much  of  his  work  in  Florence,  closing  his  life  in 
Rome  in  1669.  Under  Ferdinand  II.,  he  was  in- 
vited to  Florence  to  decorate  the  Pitti  Palace,  and 
his  frescoes  may  be  seen  in  many  of  the  ceilings  and 
lunettes  in  the  rooms  of  the  picture-gallery.  The 
frescoing  of  these  vaults  was  the  most  important 
work  of  his  life.  He  acquired  his  style  from  many 
sources;  he  copied  bas-reliefs,  choosing  Trajan's 
column  for  his  favourite  study.  His  figures  show 
the  influence  of  classic  Rome,  being  rather  heavy 
and  lacking  in  delicacy.  Influenced  by  Venetian  art, 
he  became  a  lover  of  colour,  which  he  uses  in  an 
acceptable  way,  not  startling  in  any  particular.  He 
knows  how  to  foreshorten,  —  an  art  which  is  abso- 
lutely necessary  to  one  whose  work  is  to  be  painted 
on  ceilings,  and  seen  from  below,  —  and,  while  his 


292         Ubc  Hrt  ot  tbe  ptttt  palace 

themes  are  not  intellectually  designed,  and  though 
he  frequently  exaggerates  the  action  in  simple 
scenes,  yet,  in  the  taste  of  his  day,  he  was  a  good 
decorator. 

The  chief  objects  of  attraction,  however,  in  the 
Stanza  della  Stufa,  are  the  statues  of  Cain  and 
Abel,  by  the  sculptor  Giovanni  Dupre  of  Siena.  The 
story  of  their  making  is  so  interesting  that  one  can- 
not do  better  than  repeat  it  here  in  connection  with 
the  works  of  his  early  yet  powerful  genius. 

Giovanni  Dupre  was  born  in  Siena  on  the  ist 
of  March,  1817.  He  began  his  career  by  beautiful 
wood-carving.  In  1840  he  took  the  prize  at  the 
Academy,  with  a  bas-relief  representing  "  The  Judg- 
ment of  Paris."  He  had  then  moved  to  Florence, 
where  his  life's  work  was  accomplished.  He  de- 
cided to  attempt  a  larger  work,  and  determined  to 
create  a  genuine  statue,  representing  some  sacred 
subject;  he  thought  long  of  the  Pieta,  but  finally 
decided  upon  trying  to  portray  the  dead  Abel,  that 
being  a  subject  little  chosen  by  others,  and  therefore 
more  original. 

The  statue  was  ready  to  be  exhibited  at  the  Acad- 
emy in  the  September  exhibition  in  1842.  Thirty- 
seven  years  after,  he  tells  his  thrilling  experience 
with  this  work.  "  When  the  exposition  was  opened, 
people  gathered  round  the  work.  The  imitation 
of  the  truth,  the  just  expression,  the  newness  and 


\00^ 


Ube  Stansa  t)ella  Stuta  293 

pathetic  nature  of  the  subject,  awakened  a  deep  in- 
terest. The  crowd  around  it  increased  from  day 
to  day.  But  it  began  to  be  asserted,  at  first  quietly, 
and  soon  more  boldly  and  openly,  that  my  statue 
was  an  imposture  .  .  .  that  it  was  not  the  creation 
of  art,  but  the  mechanical  work  of  a  moulder,  — 
that  I  was  seeking  to  impose  upon  the  Academy, 
masters  and  scholars,  and  the  public.  It  should  be 
thrown  O'Ut  of  the  exhibition,  for  it  was  dishonestly 
thrust  in  there  as  a  work  of  art,  when,  in  fact,  it 
was  only  a  cast  made  from  laying  the  soft  plaster 
on  the  living  model !  " 

The  figure  of  Abel  was  so  absolutely  natural 
that  less  clever  men  could  not  believe  that  it  was 
the  work  of  a  sculptor  at  all.  Giovanni  continues : 
"  At  last  they  went  so  far  as  to  strip  my  model, 
Antonio  Petrai,  in  order  to  prove  the  fraud.  He 
was  made  to  lie  down  in  the  position  O'f  the  statue, 
and  his  body  and  limbs  measured  in  length  and 
breadth  and  compass  with  strips  of  paper.  Of 
course  the  measurements  did  not  agree  with  those 
of  the  statue,  for,  without  any  design  or  thought 
about  it,  I  had  made  my  figure  four  fingers  longer 
than  the  body  of  the  model,  and  two  fingers  less 
across  the  broadest  part  of  the  back.  This  amiable 
experiment  was  made  in  the  evening,  and  the  presi- 
dent, Montalvo,  who  accidentally  surprised  them  in 
the  act,  was  full  of  indignation  in  his  rebuke,  and 


294         Ubc  Hrt  ot  tbe  pttti  palace 

did  not  spare  these  professors  of  the  Academy  who 
had  taken  part  in  the  performance." 

Suspicion  was  thus  excited  by  the  perfection  of 
Dupre's  work.  The  same  charge  had  been  once 
brought  against  Canova.  When  the  statue  of  Abel 
appeared  at  the  Paris  Exposition  in  1855,  it  was 
again  suspected.  But  when,  after  more  study,  and 
closer  examination  of  the  evidence,  the  judges  were 
convinced  that  the  sculpture  was  the  genuine  result 
of  the  artist's  ability,  they  awarded  Dupre  the  gold 
medal  of  the  first  class. 

The  critics,  who  would  not  let  him  alone,  began 
to  say  that  it  was  easy  to  make  a  recumbent  figure, 
but  that  it  would  be  a  greater  tax  upon  the  inge- 
nuity of  Dupre  to  accomplish  a  standing  one.  So, 
advised  by  his  friends,  Dupre  decided  upon  model- 
ling a  companion  piece,  the  Cain;  while  he  was  at 
work  upon  this,  the  Grand  Duchess  Maria,  wife  of 
the  Prince  of  Leuchtenberg,  visited  his  studio  to 
see  the  Abel  about  which  there  had  been  so  much 
controversy.  She  admired  the  unfinished  statue  of 
Cain,  and  then  turned  and  exchanged  a  few  words 
with  the  prince.  As  a  result  of  this  visit,  the  two 
statues  were  purchased  by  the  Prince  de  Leuchten- 
berg, who  paid  the  sum  of  fifteen  hundred  scudi  for 
Abel  and  two  thousand  for  Cain.  Cain  was  exhib- 
ited at  the  Academy  the  following  year.  The  first 
bronze  casts  taken  from  these  statues  were  ordered 


Zbc  Stansa  bella  Stuta  295 

by  the  Grand  Duke  of  Tuscany,  to  be  placed  in  the 
Pitti  Palace.    They  were  cast  by  Clementi  Papi. 

The  two  statues  stand  for  two  great  verities  in 
human  life.  The  Abel,  lying  supine  in  death,  is 
the  type  of  unresisting  martyrdom;  forgiving  in 
his  last  breath,  "  until  seventy  times  seven,"  the 
violence  of  his  brother,  as  the  expression  of  his  fea- 
tures indicates.  Cain,  on  the  contrary,  his  face 
filled  with  hate,  fear,  and  loathing  of  the  deed  which 
he  has  just  committed,  while  with  brutish  instincts 
he  still  shows  no  repentance,  is  in  the  act  of  rushing 
away  from  the  scene  of  his  crime. 

His  powerful,  well-fed  body  is  in  contrast  to 
the  delicate  purity  of  his  brother's  slender  frame. 
Although  the  statue  of  Cain  is  less  pleasant  than 
that  of  Abel,  the  critics  considered  it  a  greater 
achievement  of  art. 

Bartolini  says :  "  Dupre  has  felicitously  overcome 
in  this  work  difficulties  a  thousand  times  greater 
than  in  the  Abel." 

Andrea  Maffei  speaks  of  it  in  the  highest  terms. 
"  The  feeling  of  terror  and  remorse,"  he  says,  "  with 
which  the  first  homicide  rushes  away  from  the  scene 
of  his  crime,  has  been  sculptured  by  the  artist  with 
the  same  marvellous  power  that  characterizes  the 
description  of  the  poet,"  alluding  to  Byron's  lines : 

"  His  eyes  are  open  —  then  he  is  not  dead ; 
Death  is  like  sleep,  and  sleep  shuts  down  our  lids. 


296        Ube  Hrt  of  tf3e  pittt  palace 

His  lips,  too,  are  apart,  —  why,  then  he  breathes ! 

And  yet  I  feel  it  not. 

.  .  .  what  is  this  —  'tis  wet 

And  yet  there  are  no  dews !     'Tis  blood,  my  blood, 

My  brother's  and  my  own,  and  shed  by  me. 

Oh,  for  a  word  more  from  that  gentle  voice 
That  I  may  bear  to  hear  my  own  again !  " 

The  fratricide  continues  his  reflections  until  it  is 
completely  impressed  upon  him  what  he  has  done; 
and  then  with  one  last  wail,  he  cries: 

"  The  first  grave  yet  dug  for  mortality. 
But  who  hath  dug  that  grave  ?     Oh,  earth,  oh,  earth  ! 
For  all  the  fruits  thou  hast  rendered  to  me,  I 
Give  thee  back  this !     Now  for  the  wilderness  !  " 

Giovanni  Dupre  lived  forty  years  only;  he  died 
in  1882. 

From  the  Stanza  della  Stufa  one  passes  to  the 
Stanza  of  the  Education  of  Jupiter,  one  of  the 
smaller  rooms,  decorated  by  Catani  with  scenes  rep- 
resenting Jupiter's  education,  as  its  name  indicates. 

Let  us  look  first  at  the  two  famous  paintings,  so 
widely  different,  yet  equally  famous,  Raphael's 
Donna  Velata  and  Guido  Reni's  Cleopatra. 

"  La  Donna  Velata,"  that  most  seductive  and  fas- 
cinating Isis,  veiled  but  not  hidden,  whose  luminous 
eyes  seem  to  scintillate  with  vitality  and  the  secret 
of  perpetual  youth,  is  a  portrait  of  the  same  beauti- 
ful model  who  is  presented  in  the  Sistine  Madonna. 


Ibe  Stansa  ^eUa  Stuta  297 

Raphael  painted  it  between  15 15  and  15 17.  She  is 
evidently  a  Roman  woman  of  noble  blood.  Min- 
ghetti  believes  it  to  have  been  taken  from  the  mis- 
tress of  Raphael.  Some  say  that  she  is  the  well- 
known  Fornarina,  the  daughter  of  a  baker,  with 
whom  he  is  supposed  to  have  been  in  love.  All  this 
is  gossip,  for  there  is  no  actual  legend  or  tradition, 
and  it  was  not  even  called  the  work  of  Raphael  until 
Morelli  and  Minghetti  pronounced  it  to  be  indis- 
putably one  of  his  finest  achievements.  The  world 
is  certainly  disposed  to  agree  with  them,  and  to 
welcome  their  valuable  and  scholarly  discovery. 
There  is  a  spell  about  this  face  which  tells  that  some 
part  of  the  heart  and  soul  of  the  artist  went  into 
the  work,  and  still  lives  in  the  canvas. 

Few  representations  of  a  human  face  have  ever 
had  about  them  so  much  that  is  illusive  and  piquant. 
Monna  Lisa  in  the  Louvre,  where  Leonardo  da  Vinci 
has  given  a  perennial  smile  to  the  artistic  world, 
and  this  charming  portrait  have  in  common  this 
transitory  living  expression.  The  woman  is  beau- 
tiful for  all  time  and  for  the  fashions  of  all  ages. 
A  little  coquetry,  a  little  surprise,  a  rapid  glance 
as  your  eye  meets  hers,  and  her  lips  seem  either  to 
have  just  closed  after  a  smile,  or  just  about  to  open. 
It  is  indescribable,  this  living  quality  with  which 
Raphael  has  endowed  the  face. 

Mrs.  Jameson  says  that  Titian  showed  more  taste 


298        Ube  Hrt  of  tbe  ptttt  palace 

than  Raphael  in  his  selection  of  mistresses;  and 
this  may  be  acknowledged  if  one  compares  "  Flora  " 
with  the  Fornarina  in  Rome;  but  if  one  compares 
the  Magdalen  of  the  Pitti  with  the  Donna  Velata 
by  Raphael,  it  would  seem  that  Raphael  shows  in- 
finitely more  intellectual  and  artistic  taste. 

The  costume  which  she  wears  is  in  keeping  with 
her  expression.  The  loose  bodice,  held  carelessly 
together  with  one  hand,  gives  the  impression  that 
the  outer  dress  is  being  removed.  The  sleeve  has 
fallen  low  from  the  shoulder,  showing  a  sheer, 
closely  gathered  chemisette.  Her  hair  is  laid  in 
simple,  parted  locks  on  each  side,  but  the  air  of  prim- 
ness which  this  might  give  is  counteracted  by  the 
fact  that  the  feroniere  (a  chain  which  should  be 
worn  straight  around  the  forehead)  has  slipped 
back,  and  the  jewel,  whose  function  is  to  lie  exactly 
in  the  middle,  hangs  far  away  at  one  side.  The 
painting  of  textures  is  equal  to  that  in  the  portrait 
of  Leo  X.  La  Velata  wears  a  necklace  of  large, 
single  stones,  set  each  in  a  solid  rim  of  gold,  in 
the  fashion  which  was  revived  a  few  years  ago. 
The  way  in  which  the  chemisette  is  held  in  place 
by  a  series  of  cords  tied  in  tagged  knots  should 
also  be  noted.  There  is  a  great  deal  of  tender  de- 
tail which  will  repay  close  study.  The  only  pedigree 
of  this  picture  is  that  it  came  into  possession  of 
Matteo  Botti  after   Raphael's   death,   and  that  in 


XT  be  Stan3a  bella  Stuta  299 

1824  it  was  brought  from  the  Medici  Villa  at 
Poggio  Imperials 

In  sharp  contrast  to  his  portrait  is  the  celebrated 
but  much  overrated  Cleopatra  of  Guido  Reni,  which 
impressed  Mrs.  Jameson  as  one  of  the  chief  gems 
of  the  Pitti  collection.  It  was  painted  for  Count 
Barbazzi,  and  was  a  portrait  of  his  countess,  who 
was  said  to  be  "  the  sun  of  beauty."  Guido's  pic- 
ture represents  a  stout,  broad  woman,  such  as  he 
loved  to  paint,  holding  in  one  hand  an  asp  against 
her  breast,  while  she  turns  her  agonized  face  toward 
heaven.  Her  fat,  inexpressive  body  and  hands  lack 
the  vital  action  which  the  crisis  demands.  There 
is  not  a  remote  suggestion  of  Egypt  in  any  detail 
of  the  composition.  She  might  be  a  Venetian  or 
a  blonde  Genoese.  She  is  partially  clothed  in  a 
harmony  of  yellow  and  white,  and  the  tones  of  the 
picture  are  very  pure  and  delightful.  A  basket  of 
fruit  stands  on  the  table  at  the  left  of  the  picture, 
from  which  she  has  probably  taken  the  little  serpent. 
The  asp  is  so  very  diminutive  that  he  appears  quite 
inadequate  to  the  task  of  poisoning  so  vast  an  ex- 
panse of  humanity. 

The  person  whom  Guido  has  called  Cleopatra 
littk  suggests  the  subtle  charm  and  obvious  fascina- 
tions of  the  irresistible  Egyptian  queen,  but  looks 
more  like  some  honest,  dull,  handsome  bourgeoise, 
who  had  been  betrayed  into  an  indiscretion  and  was 


300         XTbe  Hrt  of  tbc  pittt  palace 

repenting  in  a  state  of  bovine  despair,  without  any 
further  interest  in  Hfe,  or  any  resource  except  to 
escape  by  death.  Nevertheless,  divorced  from  its 
subject,  as  a  technical  work  the  picture  is  mellow 
and  exquisite  in  modelling.  When  the  Cardinal 
Leopold  de  Medici  paid  140  crowns  (about  $235) 
for  it,  in  1640,  it  must  have  undoubtedly  appealed 
to  his  taste.  The  main  impression,  in  looking  from 
the  Donna  Velata  to  the  Cleopatra,  is  that  Guido 
Reni  has  painted  a  body,  and  that  Raphael  has 
painted  a  sooil. 

One  sees  the  Spanish  influence,  which  was  in- 
vading Italy  in  the  sixteenth  century,  in  the  works 
of  Veronese,  Titian,  and  Tintoret.  In  the  Presen- 
tation in  the  Temple,  by  Veronese,  Number  269, 
the  Madonna  recalls  those  of  Murillo  and  other 
Spanish  masters.  The  Child  is  faultless.  The  de- 
lightful little  body  is  foreshortened,  and  the  flesh 
finely  painted.  The  indifferent  confidence  of  a 
young  child  lying  trustfully  in  his  mother^s  arms, 
regardless  and  without  anticipation  of  the  future, 
is  portrayed  with  true  feeling  for  nature.  The  pic- 
ture is  very  dark,  —  probably  much  darker  now 
than  it  was  when  it  was  painted ;  the  light  all  comes 
from  the  altar,  and  much  of  the  background  is  in 
deep  shadow.  The  altar-cloth  forms  a  great  white 
value  at  the  right,  and  the  vari-coloured  dress  of  a 
man  who  is  kneeling  reading  at  the  foot  of  the 


Ube  Stan3a  bella  Stuta  301 

altar  gives  richness  to  that  side  of  the  picture.  The 
left  side  is  subdued  in  tone.  The  light  is  thrown 
strongly  on  the  shoulder  of  the  High  Priest,  empha- 
sizing the  upper  portion  of  his  figure;  the  rest  is 
almost  lost.  Behind  him  another  ecclesiastical  fig- 
ure emerges  out  of  the  gloom,  and  is  looking  at  the 
holy  Child  over  the  shoulder  of  the  High  Priest. 
There  is  a  feeling  of  reverence  displayed  on  the 
part  of  all  the  beholders,  which  is  less  stagey  than 
Veronese's  usual  treatment  of  religious  subjects. 
St.  Joseph  appears  dimly  in  the  shade  behind  Mary, 
and  he  carries  a  typical  Venetian  votive  candle  of 
the  sixteenth  century.  The  textures  of  the  paint- 
ing are  all  beautifully  rendered,  as  always  is  the 
case  in  Veronese's  work. 

The  rich  Venetian  feeling,  combined  with  the 
Spanish,  may  be  felt  in  the  juxtaposition  of  the 
heavy  brocaded  robe  of  the  priest  and  the  shimmer- 
ing mantle  of  the  Virgin.  On  the  altar  are  certain 
utensils,  the  touch  of  metal  adding  to  the  richness 
of  the  effect.  Although  this  is  not  recognized  as 
one  of  Veronese's  most  typical  groups,  it  has  some 
of  his  best  qualities  of  handling. 

Don  Giulio  Clovio's  Deposition  is  in  this  room, 
■ —  a  little  picture  on  parchment  in  the  minute  style 
of  this  artist.  The  composition  is  interesting;  the 
cross  does  not  show ;  there  is  only  the  group  around 
its  base.    Christ  is  lying  limp  against  the  knees  of 


302       XTbe  Htt  ot  tbe  ptttt  palace 

the  sorrowing  Virgin.  The  other  figures  are  not 
thoughtfully  conceived;  more  attention  is  paid  to 
technique  than  to  ideas. 

Don  Giulio  Clovio  was  properly  a  miniature 
painter  of  the  Roman  school,  illuminating  very 
elaborate  volumes  on  vellum,  and  painting  with  a 
finish  seldom  equalled  by  any  artist  in  his  line.  He 
stands  as  the  last  illuminator  of  note,  being  born 
in  1498,  and  living  until  1578.  His  works  are  really 
illustrations,  —  pictures  rather  than  ornament  in 
books.  He  was  originally  a  canon  in  the  Church, 
during  which  time  his  work  was  altogether  relig- 
ious ;  later  he  was  made  a  layman  again  by  a  papal 
dispensation.  He  was  a  pupil  of  Giulio  Romano. 
The  great  miniaturist  of  Verona,  Fra  Girolamo  da 
Libri,  taught  him  the  art  of  laying  pigments  with 
water  and  gum  on  vellum.  He  studied  Michel- 
angelo; and  many  of  his  most  diminutive  produc- 
tions are  powerful  because  they  are  inspired  by  such 
a  standard.  The  exquisite  exactness  with  which 
his  work  is  rendered  can  hardly  be  matched,  for 
no  miniaturist  ever  reached  to  such  technical  per- 
fection, although  many  have  had  a  truer  apprecia- 
tion of  decoration  as  applied  to  book  illustration, 
and  also  have  recognized  the  vellum  itself  as  one 
factor  in  the  scheme.  Don  Giulio  does  not  do  this. 
He  does  not  treat  the  parchrnent  as  a  page  to  be 
decorated,  but  simply  as  a  flat  surface.    His  vellum. 


Ube  Stansa  t)ella  Stuta  30s 

as  in  this  instance,  is  covered  up  with  superimposed 
pigment;  except  in  small  high-lights,  he  uses  it  as 
most  artists  use  their  canvas  or  panel,  and  he  is 
literally  painting  a  picture  instead  of  ornamenting  a 
book.  In  this  particular  the  earlier  illuminators 
understood  their  craft  better  than  he  did.  His  pic- 
tures might  as  well  have  been  executed  upon  card- 
board or  paper;  whereas,  like  ivory,  vellum  has 
really  in  itself  a  creamy  decorative  quality  which 
the  best  artists  have  always  recognized  and  devel- 
oped. 

Clovio  visited  Duke  Cosimo  at  the  Pitti  Palace, 
and  it  was  while  staying  there  that  he  painted  the 
little  Deposition  which  now  hangs  in  the  Stanza  of 
the  Education  of  Jupiter.  Vasari  describes  all  his 
best  known  works  minutely,  saying,  for  the  benefit 
of  those  who  cannot  see  them :  "  They  are  almost 
all  in  the  hands  of  princes  or  other  great  personages. 
...  I  know  some  private  persons  who  have  small 
cases  containing  beautiful  portraits  by  his  hand,  of 
sovereigns,  of  their  friends,  or  of  ladies  whom  they 
have  loved." 

The  familiar  figure  of  the  boy  St.  John  the  Bap- 
tist, by  Andrea  del  Sarto,  greets  us  here.  It  is  as 
thoroughly  popular  a  picture  as  ever  was  painted, 
—  a  beautiful  face,  a  noble  composition,  restful  and 
happy.  It  has  suffered  much  from  injudicious  res- 
toration.    It  is  an  example  of  what  Henry  James 


304       Ube  Hrt  of  tbe  pittt  ipalace 

deplores  concerning  restorations,  as  "  in  the  case 
of  the  beautiful  boy  figure  of  Andrea  del  Sarto, 
with  its  honourable  duskiness  all  peeled  off,  and 
Heaven  knows  what  raw,  bleeding  cuticle  laid  bare." 
It  is  quite  true  that  the  colouring  has  been  spoiled 
by  these  applications  of  cosmetics ;  but  the  drawing 
and  the  sweet  facial  expression  remain  to  enchant 
us  in  spite  of  the  very  pink  surface. 

The  portrait  of  Philip  IV.  of  Spain,  by  Velasquez, 
presents  the  monarch  on  horseback.  This  painting 
is  minute  in  finish  and  detail,  and  in  keeping  with 
the  petty  nature  of  the  sovereign  whom  it  portrays. 
It  is  hardly  a  characteristic  example  of  Velasquez's 
best  work.  Philip  IV.  (1605- 1665),  King  of 
Spain,  was  one  of  the  weaklings  on  the  Spanish 
throne  who  succeeded  such  men  as  Charles  V.  and 
Philip  II.  He  did  nothing  to  stay  the  decline  of 
Spanish  power,  but  was  an  element  in  bringing  it 
about.  He  was  ruled  by  his  favourites  and  min- 
isters, and  a  mere  figurehead  in  a  kingdom  which 
required  the  strong  arm  of  a  soldier  and  a  states- 
man. 

The  charming  head  usually  attributed  to  Garo- 
folo,  called  La  Zingarella,  is  given  by  Morelli  to 
one  Boccaccio  Boccaccino,  who  served  apprentice- 
ship in  Ferrara  and  Venice.  The  best  qualities  in 
his  art  are  those  derived  from  Bellini,  Vivarini,  and 
Giorgione.     If  he  painted  this  head,  he  certainly 


LA    ZINGARELLA 
By  Garofalo ;  in  the  Stanza  della  Stufa 


__.   „      nPPVUTMcNT  of 


Zbc  Stansa  t^ella  Stuta  305 

was  a  master.  The  soft  lines,  the  translucent  eyes, 
which  are  unusually  well  treated,  show  that  he  could 
cope  with  the  subtleties  of  rendering  the  human 
face.  Morelli  says  that  there  are  no  other  specimens 
of  the  work  of  Boccaccino  in  either  Central  or  South- 
ern Italy.  On  the  whole,  it  would  be  more  interest- 
ing to  believe  that  the  virile  little  picture  was  by 
his  hand  than  that  it  was  one  of  Garofolo's.  There 
are  some  cases  in  which  it  seems  almost  like  dis- 
loyalty to  take  away  from  a  time-honoured  favourite 
his  traditional  credit ;  but  in  this  case  the  welcoming 
of  a  new  artist  in  Florence  is  worth  the  sacrifice. 
The  eyes  of  the  Zingarella  are  remarkable  for  their 
honest,  clear  gaze.  They  seem  to  hold  one  in  a 
spell.  The  head  is  that  of  a  young  girl,  and  is  very 
spirited,  with  a  realistic,  untamed  gipsy  look,  and 
with  none  of  the  tawdry  theatrical  mannerism 
adopted  by  some  painters  to  express  a  wild  child 
of  nature.  The  features  are  rather  large,  and  might 
be  called,  by  admirers  of  Dolci  and  Guido,  coarse; 
about  her  head  she  wears  a  blue  scarf  folded  almost 
like  a  turban,  but  falling  at  the  back,  and  bound 
beneath  her  chin  by  a  swathing  of  the  same  material. 
On  her  forehead  she  wears  a  slender  chain  with  a 
small  pendent  jewel.  Another  jewel  hangs  upon 
her  throat  from  a  succession  of  little  chains.  Her 
blonde  hair  strays  out  in  curly  tendrils  beneath  the 
scarf,  but  is  severely  parted  above  her  brow.     She 


3o6         ube  Htt  of  tbe  pittt  palace 

wears  a  white  chemisette,  with  a  delicate  border  of 
some  wrought  jewelled  effect;  her  red  mantle  is 
slung  carelessly  over  the  right  shoulder,  showing 
a  green  lining. 

Tintoretto's  Descent  from  the  Cross,  Number 
248,  is  rather  theatrical,  but  effective  in  light  and 
shade  and  in  grouping.  There  are  some  slight 
irregularities  in  drawing,  such  as  Tintoretto  nearly 
always  commits,  but  he  is  one  of  the  few  artists 
in  whose  work  light,  colour,  and  effect  really  over- 
come one's  prejudice  so  far  that  bad  drawing  is 
allowed  to  pass  unchallenged.  A  very  Venetian 
Magdalen,  with  both  arms  extended  wide,  bends 
over  the  prostrate  body  of  our  Lord.  The  heads 
of  the  women  and  the  arrangement  of  the  draperies 
are  characteristic  and  most  graceful.  As  Longfel- 
low's Michelangelo  says: 

"...  If  the  Venetian  painters  knew 
But  half  as  much  of  drawing  as  of  colour 
They  would  indeed  work  miracles  of  art." 

Tintoretto  has  been  accused  of  using  too  great 
depth  of  shadow  in  order  to  give  roundness  to  his 
figures.  He  employed  very  sudden  variations  in 
light  and  shade,  and  it  gave  the  effect  for  which  he 
aimed.  In  the  matter  of  breadth  of  finish,  he  used 
his  intelligence  and  was  guided  by  the  requirements 
of  his  picture  both  in  dimensions  and  subject.    Tin- 


Ube  Stansa  ^eUa  Stuta  307 

toret  often  made  balance  in  his  compositions  by 
introducing  a  single  bit  of  light ;  it  may  have  struck 
simply  on  the  base  of  a  column,  or  the  edge  of  a 
book,  but  he  knew  how  to  make  it  do  such  service 
as  most  painters  could  only  accomplish  by  intro- 
ducing another  figure.  If  he  had  a  fault  in  com- 
position, it  lay  in  the  too  lavish  use  of  contrasts 
in  costumes,  so  that  one  might  show  up  well  against 
another.  Many  people  cannot  appreciate  him,  for 
he  does  not  appeal  to  the  uncultured  taste,  but 
rather  to  the  thinker  and  student  of  human  nature. 
He  did  not  paint  the  obvious.  Whether  this  is 
praiseworthy  or  blameworthy  is  not  our  contention ; 
the  fact  remains.  Great  painters  have  been  both 
simple  and  obscure,  and  neither  style  has  prevented 
their  being  recognized  as  masters.  Raphael  was 
obvious;  Leonardo  was  subtle;  there  are  more 
admirers,  numerically,  for  Raphael;  but  Leonardo 
better  repays  the  student. 

The  Sibyl  Showing  the  Vision  of  the  Virgin  and 
Child  to  Augustus  Caesar  is  depicted  by  Paris  Bor- 
done  in  rather  a  different  manner  from  that  by 
Garofolo,  although  the  event  and  the  moment  chosen 
for  portrayal  are  the  same.  The  vision  is  seen 
through  a  window,  the  scene  being  laid  in  a  temple, 
and  Augustus  stands  near  the  altar,  looking  through 
the  aperture  into  the  sky.  The  sibyl  and  Augustus 
are  both  young  and  handsome.    On  the  altar  a  fire 


3o8       trbe  Brt  ot  tbe  ptttt  palace 

is  lighted,  and  on  the  step  there  lies  a  wreath  of 
laurel.  The  costumes  are  not  very  historic,  the 
Roman  Emperor  being  arrayed  in  a  Venetian  bro- 
cade of  the  fifteenth  century,  while  the  sibyl  wears 
a  cameo  brooch. 

A  quaint  portrait  of  Henry  11.  of  France,  by 
Jehanet  Clouet,  hangs  here,  numbered  262.  Henry 
n.  (1519— 1559)  would  be  an  almost  forgotten 
king,  so  slight  was  his  influence  upon  his  age,  if 
it  were  not  for  the  fact  that  he  will  be  remembered 
as  the  husband  of  Catherine  de  Medici,  and  the 
guardian,  in  her  childhood,  of  Mary,  Queen  of  Scots. 
The  portrait  is  chiefly  interesting  as  being  the  only 
example  of  early  French  painting  in  the  Pitti  Palace. 

The  two  solemn  children  painted  by  Paul  Vero- 
nese should  not  be  passed  over  without  comment. 
Their  plain,  earnest  little  faces  are  lifelike  and  pa- 
thetic, and  the  two  small  panels  on  which  they  are 
painted  must  have  been  at  some  time  among  the 
most  precious  possessions  of  their  families.  They 
represent  a  little  boy  and  a  little  girl  in  unaffected 
poses  and  in  ordinary  child's  clothes  of  the  period. 

Carlo  Dolci's  portrait  of  San  Carlo  Borromeo 
may  be  seen.  Number  275.  The  saint  is  represented 
in  almost  full  face,  which  disguises  somewhat  the 
unusually  large  nose  which  distinguished  him; 
while  the  likeness,  in  spite  of  this  concession,  is 
remarkably  well  retained.    He  is  clad  in  a  garment 


Ube  Stan3a  bella  Stuta  309 

with  a  cape  and  lace  sleeves,  and  holds  a  crucifix 
in  one  hand  and  a  cardinal's  hat  in  the  other.  A 
halo  is  behind  his  head,  and  tapestry  forms  the  back- 
ground. It  was  painted  for  Cardinal  Carlo  de 
Medici,  and  later  was  bequeathed  to  the  Grand 
Duke  Cosimo  III. 

The  picture  numbered  276,  by  Mancini,  repre- 
sents St.  Henry  of  Bavaria  and  his  wife,  St.  Cune- 
gunda.  The  canvas  was  long  attributed  to  Dolci, 
until  finally  the  signature,  "  Mancini  F.,  1629,"  was 
found  on  the  back. 

St.  Henry  of  Bavaria  was  born  in  972,  and  be- 
came emperor  in  1002.  He  was  the  founder  of 
the  cathedral  at  Bamberg.  He  was  very  devout, 
but  was  unlucky  in  war.  At  one  time  he  considered 
renouncing  his  empire  to  become  a  monk.  The 
prior  told  him  that,  if  he  relinquished  his  sceptre, 
the  first  vow  required  of  him  would  be  that  of 
obedience.  Henry  replied  that  he  had  no  objection 
to  obeying  humbly.  Thereupon  the  prior  advised 
him  to  retain  his  throne,  "  for,"  said  he,  "  the  em- 
peror comes  hither  to  learn  obedience  which  he  can 
best  practise  by  ruling  judiciously."  His  wife, 
Cunegunda,  was  a  much  beloved  queen  and  a  noble 
woman.  When  rumours  were  spread  against  her 
character,  she  demanded  the  Trial  by  Ordeal.  After 
a  promenade  upon  hot  ploughshares,  her  enemies 
were  convinced  of  her  innocence. 


3IO        XTbe  Brt  of  tbe  pitti  l^aIace 

St.  Henry  and  Cunegunda  also  founded  the 
Church  of  San  Miniato  in  Florence.  In  this  paint- 
ing, they  are  seen  both  crowned,  and  with  a  lily, 
the  emblem  of  chastity.  St.  Henry  is  seen  in  full 
face,  with  his  hand  on  his  heart.  He  wears  an 
ermine  collar.  Cunegunda  is  looking  over  his 
shoulder,  and  is  in  the  act  of  taking  the  lily;  the 
figures  appear  only  about  to  the  waist. 

Bronzino's  portrait  of  Lucrezia,  Duchess  of  Fer- 
rara,  is  numbered  277.  Lucrezia  was  the  daughter 
of  Cosimo  I.  de  Medici,  and  was  born  in  1542,  and 
married  Alphonse  II.  of  Ferrara.  She  was  the  sis- 
ter of  Don  Garcia,  whose  portrait  "  as  Cupid  "  we 
shall  next  examine.  She  was  two  years  his  senior. 
As  a  child  she  was  betrothed  to  Fabiano  del  Monte, 
who  was  a  nephew  of  Julius  HI.  But  at  the  death 
of  the  Pontiff,  Cosimo  considered  Alphonse  of  Fer- 
rara a  better  match,  so  in  February,  1560,  she  was 
given  to  him  in  marriage. 

The  charming  portrait  of  little  Garcia  de  Medici 
is  Number  279.  He  is  dressed  in  a  Florentine  court 
suit,  with  a  sash  across  his  breast.  Evidently  it  was 
his  fond  parent's  intention  to  have  him  painted  as 
"  Cupid,"  so  he  is  invested  with  a  bow  and  a  quiver 
of  arrows,  while  he  smiles  benignly  on  the  spectator. 
Poor  little  Garcia  came  to  a  sad  end,  being  killed 
by  his  father  in  the  presence  of  his  mother;  he  him- 
self, as  has  been  elsewhere  mentioned,  having  in 


Uhc  Stansa  ^ella  Stufa  31 1 

his  turn  murdered  his  brother,  the  Archbishop  of 
Pisa. 

St.  Francis  Xavier  is  made  altogether  out  of  char- 
acter by  Carlo  Dolci,  for  he  is  as  affected  as  most 
of  Dolci's  saints.  He  carries  a  staff.  His  figure  is 
so  faultless  that  one  wonders  whether  he  wore  cor- 
sets. Beads  are  hanging  at  his  belt.  With  both 
hands  he  is  opening  the  robe  on  his  breast;  his 
halo  is  most  exaggerated ;  it  takes  up  as  much  room 
as  the  saint  himself,  and  is  arranged  in  regular  rays, 
so  disposed  that  they  look  like  a  windmill  behind 
him. 

As  to  the  St.  Niccolo  de  Tolenta  of  Dolci,  one 
can  say  little,  except  that  he  appears  to  be  an  Italian 
opera  singer,  declaiming  or  serenading  after  the 
manner  of  his  kind,  dressed  in  a  showy  robe  covered 
with  sunbursts,  the  central  one,  on  his  breast,  hav- 
ing a  face  in  the  centre.  His  attributes  are  a  lily 
and  a  book. 

There  are  numerous  other  Madonnas  and  por- 
traits in  the  Stanza  of  the  Education  of  Jupiter. 


CHAPTER   XI. 

STANZA   OF   ULYSSES   AND   STANZA   OF   JUSTICE 

A  VERY  ornate  and  rococo  little  bath-room  leads 
from  the  Stanza  of  the  Education  of  Jupiter  to  the 
Stanza  of  Ulysses. 

Perhaps  as  beautiful  as  anything  in  this  room  is 
the  swaying,  exquisitely  proportioned  figure  of  the 
Virgin  in  a  visionary  painting  by  Tintoretto,  Num- 
ber 313,  in  which  Mary,  holding  the  child,  is  seen 
floating  in  the  heavens  above  the  new  moon,  with 
almost  as  perfect  an  aerial  poise  as  the  Madonna  in 
the  Assumption  by  Titian  in  Venice.  In  no  other 
respect,  however,  could  this  especial  picture  be  com- 
pared with  Titian's  masterpiece.  The  proportions 
of  the  female  figure,  as  portrayed  by  Tintoretto,  are 
more  in  harmony  with  the  standard  of  our  own  day 
than  those  of  the  painters  of  his  epoch.  Tintoretto 
is  famous  for  the  way  his  visionary  figures  appear 
to  float  in  the  air,  and  the  picture  of  the  Madonna 
is  no  exception  to  this  rule.  For  it  is  not  a  rep- 
resentation, but  a  vision.    Tintoretto  does  not  paint 

3" 


Stanaa  ot  iHl^sscs  313 

her  as  a  living  woman,  but  as  an  embodied  thought. 
His  compositions  are  bold.  When  he  has  to  rep- 
resent a  host  of  angels,  he  reads  into  the  heavenly 
beings  some  of  his  own  impetuousness,  and  shows 
them  flying  about  in  their  eagerness  for  service, 
instead  of  ranging  them  in  meek  ranks  of  semi- 
indifferent  but  decorative  adoration  about  the  throne, 
"  serving  "  by  "  only  standing  and  waiting."  This 
passive  idea  did  not  appeal  to  his  more  active  imag- 
ination. His  angels  may  be  restless;  they  may 
sometimes  exhibit  nervous  energy;  but  they  reflect 
the  artist's  conception  of  virility,  and  they  are  alive 
as  they  fly ;  they  do  not  stand  on  one  foot  on  con- 
venient cushions  of  cloud-stuff,  like  the  amiable 
creations  of  Perugino,  but  they  whirl  and  float, 
sustained  by  a  divine  exaltation,  which,  when  ana- 
lyzed, is  just  as  laudable  an  emotion  as  perfect  res- 
ignation and  pious  self-effacement.  No  model  could 
serve  as  a  flying  angel  of  the  type  which  Tintoretto 
paints.  His  vital  imagination  had  to  supply  the 
ethereal  quality  of  their  attitudes,  and  it  never  failed 
him. 

There  seems  to  be  as  little  limit  to  the  power  of 
Tintoret  to  express  the  action  of  a  human  figure 
as  with  Michelangelo.  No  attitude  is  too  impossible 
for  him  to  portray,  and  no  multitude  of  figures  ever 
proved  too  much  for  his  ability.  No  rules  previ- 
ously observed  hampered  him.    Nature  and  his  own 


^\  tM«^ 


BEVARTMENT  Of 

X?  uvTE^ 


314        Ubc  Hrt  ot  tbe  IMtti  ©alace 

imagination  were  his  only  guides.  He  did  not  paint 
a  scene  in  a  certain  way  because  all  painters  from 
the  beginning  had  so  presented  it;  he  brought  his 
own  thought  to  bear  upon  it,  and  painted  the  mental 
image  which  was  conjured  up  by  the  facts  as  he 
rehearsed  them.  Had  all  artists  tacitly  represented 
the  Last  Supper  by  a  row  of  figures  seated  at  a  long 
table,  with  Jesus  in  the  midst?  Never  mind;  Tin- 
toretto saw  it  differently.  Putting  himself,  in  his 
mind's  eye,  at  the  further  end  of  a  long  table,  —  in 
the  lowest  seat,  —  he  paints  a  deep  perspective,  with 
the  apostles  seated  on  either  side  of  it,  and,  at  the 
far  end,  distinguished  by  the  aureole  of  light  about 
his  head,  the  Master  sits  remote,  not  analyzed,  — 
a  new  and  original  treatment  of  the  subject,  and 
Tintoretto's  own. 

Carlo  Dolci's  Christ  in  the  Garden  of  Gethsem- 
ane.  Number  288,  represents  the  chief  figure  kneel- 
ing, with  the  drops  of  bloody  sweat  standing  on  his 
brow,  while  in  the  heavens  is  seen  an  angel,  who 
comes  to  minister  to  him,  with  a  chalice  in  one  hand 
and  a  cross  in  the  other. 

Cigoli  has  painted  St.  Francis  in  an  attitude  of 
meditation  and  study  instead  of  adoration.  The 
picture  is  Number  290.  He  is  kneeling  before  the 
crucifix  in  a  wilderness,  with  an  open  book  spread 
before  him.  In  the  background  on  a  hill  may  be 
seen  the  little  house  of  devotions,  the  Portiuncula, 


Stansa  ot  mi^sses  315 

where  St.  Francis  spent  so  many  precious  hours. 
It  is  interesting  to  compare  this  with  another  picture 
of  St.  Francis  hanging  close  by. 

Ligozzi  has  here  painted  St.  Francis,  Number 
289,  kneehng  on  a  high  promontory  on  the  left  of 
his  picture,  while  below  him  lies  the  valley,  with 
people  crossing  a  rustic  bridge  and  going  up  a  road 
toward  the  town.  In  the  sky  the  Madonna  and 
Child  are  seen.  The  vision  is  on  an  enormous  scale 
in  proportion  to  the  rest  of  the  composition;  all 
around  the  central  figure  little  winged  heads  of 
angels  are  floating. 

Allori's  Preaching  of  the  Baptist  hangs  here. 
It  is  dignified,  and  the  figure  of  the  Baptist,  stand- 
ing under  a  palm-tree,  is  refined  and  forceful.  The 
crowd  of  listeners  is  also  well  composed.  In  the 
centre  may  be  seen  a  man  on  one  knee  on  the  ground, 
holding  a  scroll  and  pen,  trying  to  take  notes.  Quite 
a  modern  touch.  In  the  distance  Christ  and  his 
apostles  are  approaching.  Alessandro  Allori  was 
the  nephew  of  Christofano,  and  the  author  oi  a 
"  Treatise  on  Anatomy  for  Painters."  He  was  in- 
ferior in  power  to  his  uncle.  His  habit  of  i»tro-. 
ducing  modern  touches  into  historical  scenes  often* . 
became  very  objectionable.  He  was  born  in  1535, 
and  died  in  1607,  in  Florence,  his  native  city. 

In  the  school  of  Andrea  del  Sarto  may  be  seen 
an    agreeable    representation    of    Tobias    and    the 


3i6        trbc  art  ot  tbe  pitti  fi^alace 

Angel;  but  it  is  not  so  interesting  as  the  one  by 
Biliverti  hanging  over  the  door  in  the  Hall  of  the 
Iliad.  There  is  also  a  Madonna  and  Child  in  the 
same  school,  Number  294,  pretty,  but  lacking  in 
originality  or  force. 

Over  the  door  is  a  Temptation  of  St.  Anthony, 
by  Salvator  Rosa,  which  Ruskin  commends  highly, 
saying  that  all  the  power  of  the  artist,  such  as  it 
was,  is  here  manifested,  and  that  very  little  about 
it  is  objectionable.  "  It  is  a  vigorous  and  ghastly 
thought,  in  that  kind  of  horror  which  is  dependent 
upon-  scenic  effect."  There  are  striking  effects  of 
cloud  in  the  background,  "  black  flakes,  with  rents 
and  openings  of  intense  and  lurid  green."  All  this 
may  be  true;  but  this  picture  was  evidently  the 
inspiration  of  Mr.  John  Teniel  in  one  of  his  illus- 
trations for  "  Alice  in  Wonderland,"  for  the  mon- 
ster which  is  pursuing  the  long-suffering  saint  is 
undeniably  a  Jabberwock.  The  saint  is  crouching 
in  terror  on  the  ground,  and  the  mythical  creature 
which  is  chasing  him  hovers  in  the  air,  in  almost 
the  same  position  as  that  of  the  redoubtable  Jabber- 
wock. To  say  that  it  is  ludicrous,  as  applied  to  a 
religious  theme,  is  to  put  it  mildly.  The  picture 
was  painted  for  Cardinal  Carlo  de  Medici.  Let  us 
hope  that  it  proved  salutary. 

Carlo  Dolci's  Madonna  is  not  strong  as  a  paint- 
ing, but  it  is  a  pretty  picture.    The  halos  which  sur- 


Stan3a  ot  mi^sses  317 

round  the  heads  of  the  Mother  and  Child  are  lavish 
in  size,  and  are  arranged  in  a  series  of  defined 
points;  they  suggest  the  way  in  which  swords  are 
placed  in  what  is  called  a  *'  panoply,"  as  decoration 
in  an  armory. 

Christofano  Allori's  St.  John  in  the  Desert  is  a 
passably  satisfactory  picture,  without  special  inspi- 
ration. The  saint  is  not  emaciated,  as  the  medise- 
valists  delighted  to  draw  him;  and,  after  all,  per- 
haps locusts  and  wild  honey  would  be  rather  hearty 
food;  at  least,  they  would  combine  flesh-producing 
ingredients ! 

The  picture  of  the  Madonna  and  Child  with  Saints 
is  not  unlike  other  paintings  by  Del  Sarto  in  the 
Pitti.  The  two  saints  in  the  foreground  are  dis- 
posed very  much  like  those  in  the  Disputa.  The 
Magdalen  in  profile,  and  the  St.  John,  who  kneels, 
are  much  like  the  St.  Sebastian  and  the  Magdalen 
in  that  picture,  and  might  easily  have  been  poses 
of  the  same  model,  and  worked  up  from  sketches 
made  at  the  same  time.  The  child  is  one  of  An- 
drea's loveliest  creations,  as  he  stands  sturdily  on 
his  mother's  knee,  pointing  heavenward.  His  other 
hand,  pressed  upon  her  arm  for  support,  is  an  ex- 
quisite piece  of  modelling  and  foreshortening.  The 
Madonna  is  the  usual  type,  —  Lucrezia,  —  maturer 
and  stately.  On  the  right  of  the  picture  stand  St. 
Sebastian,  with  arrows  in  his  hand,  and  St.  Roch. 


3i8        Ube  Hrt  of  tbe  pttti  palace 

On  the  left  are  St.  Lawrence  and  a  nude  figure, 
evidently  Adam,  who  gazes  into  the  face  of  the 
divine  infant,  his  own  face  hidden  by  his  sweeping 
hair.  This  figure  has  been  called  by  other  names, 
but  the  consensus  of  opinion  seems  to  be  that  it 
represents  the  father  of  the  race. 

The  picture  is  on  wood,  and  was  painted  for  an 
intimate  friend  of  Andrea,  one  Cambassi;  it  was 
hung  for  some  time  in  a  church  near  the  Chateau 
of  Cambassi.  There  was  originally  a  predella, 
showing  portraits  of  the  donor  and  his  wife.  This 
was  unfortunately  lost. 

There  is  an  unknown  portrait  of  a  man  by  Dolci, 
in  a  slashed  court  suit.  This,  Number  316,  is  one 
of  the  finest  works  of  the  artist,  a  superb  study  of 
lights  on  flesh.  He  wears  a  flat  ruff,  and  is  in  an 
easy  attitude. 

Number  317  is  a  landscape  by  Kornelis  Pol  en- 
berg,  a  Holland  painter  who  flourished  in  the  early 
half  of  the  seventeenth  century,  and  shows  a  Roman 
ruin,  with  columns  standing  at  the  left,  while  shep- 
herds of  the  classical-pastoral  type  are  posing  about 
to  give  an  air  of  life  to  the  picture.  The  pictures 
of  Polenberg  are  very  rare;  there  are  four  of  them 
in  the  Pitti  Palace. 

There  is  a  restful  but  unintellectual  Nativity  here, 
by  Procaccino;  it  is  full  of  glowing  transparency 
and  of  sweet  Greek  idyllic  feeling.     The  shepherds 


Stansa  of  XHlpsses  319 

are  Greek;  the  mother  is  hugging  the  child  in  an 
ecstasy  of  maternal  joyousness.  Camillo  Procac- 
cino  was  one  of  three  talented  brother  painters, 
living  in  Bologna  between  1546  and  1626.  He 
was  famous  both  for  his  drawing  and  his  colouring. 
He  drew  with  spirit,  and  used  his  shades  well.  He 
was  called  the  Vasari  O'f  Lombardy;  although  to 
us,  who  are  not  so  much  concerned  with  Vasari 
as  a  painter  as  we  are  interested  in  him  as  a  biog- 
rapher, this  seems  scant  praise. 

Christoforo  del  Altissimo  painted  the  portrait  of 
Clarice  Ridolfi  Altovito,  Number  327.  It  repre- 
sents a  fair  young  girl,  thoroughly  enchanting.  She 
has  a  lovely  face,  and  wears  her  hair  dressed  close 
to  her  head,  with  a  bead  head-dress. 

In  the  manner  of  Van  Dyck  is  a  portrait  of  Hen- 
rietta Maria,  wife  of  Charles  I.  of  England.  She 
is  seen  in  profile,  and  is  resplendent  in  satins  with 
full  gloss.  She  is  holding  a  rose  in  her  hand.  It 
is  a  stately  picture  and  worthy  of  a  queen. 

There  is  a  cheerful  landscape  by  Agostino  Caracci, 
through  the  centre  of  which  winds  a  river.  To  give 
a  human  touch  of  interest,  Caracci  has  painted 
youths  bathing  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  river, 
while  on  the  side  in  the  foreground  sits  a  woman 
turning  away  her  head,  and  holding  up  her  hands 
in  protest!  Agostino  Caracci  was  that  brother  of 
Annibale  to  whom  allusion  has  been  made,  and  who 


320        Ube  Ert  of  tbe  pitti  palace 

was  somewhat  serious,  inclining  towards  the  style  of 
Tintoret,  while  Annibale  reflected  the  lighter  mood 
of  Correggio.  Most  of  his  time  was  occupied  with 
engraving,  so  that  he  did  not  paint  as  much  as  his 
brother.  He  is  said,  however,  on  his  return  from 
Venice,  to  have  succeeded  so  well  in  painting  a  horse 
as  to  deceive  the  living  animal  which  had  been  its 
model,  and  who  approached  it,  thinking  it  to  be 
alive. 

Number  326  is  a  portrait  of  Pope  Paul  III,  by 
Paris  Bordone,  after  Titian,  whose  original  of  this 
portrait  is  in  Naples.  The  figure  appears  to  be 
somewhat  out  of  drawing,  the  lower  limbs  being 
much  longer  in  proportion  to  the  head  than  is  usual. 
But  it  is  hardly  fair  to  judge  at  this  late  date,  for 
the  subject  may  have  had  this  peculiarity.  He  is 
seated  in  a  red  chair,  and  is  clad  in  red  and  white, 
—  much  the  same  colour  scheme  as  that  chosen  by 
Raphael  for  Leo  X.  Paul  HI.  was  Alexander  Far- 
nese,  and  was  elected  Pope  in  1554,  when  he  was 
sixty-eight  years  of  age.  He  was  a  rabid  opponent 
of  Lutheranism.  He  was,  nevertheless,  a  corre- 
spondent of  Erasmus,  although  he  established  the 
Inquisition  at  Naples,  and  confirmed  the  Order  of 
the  Jesuits.  Before  taking  sacred  orders,  he  had 
been  married  twice.  Paul  HI.  was  one  of  the  most 
noted  Pontiffs  concerned  in  the  building  of  the  Vat- 
ican.    He  appreciated  merit  in  the  arts,  and  con- 


Stansa  of  nipssea  321 

stantly  rewarded  such  men  as  Michelangelo,  Gio- 
vio,  Contarini,  Bembo,  and  others  for  their  labours. 
This  Pope  was  responsible  for  making  peace  be- 
tween Charles  V.  and  Francis  I.  of  France. 

Proceeding  now  through  the  Stanza  of  Prome- 
theus, where  we  have  already  spent  some  time,  we 
go  beyond,  through  the  Corridor  of  Columns,  to 
the  Stanza  of  Justice.  This  Gallery  O'f  Columns  is 
so  called  because  of  the  two  valuable  columns  which 
are  engrafted  in  the  architecture  of  the  room;  they 
are  of  Oriental  alabaster.  There  are  numerous 
miniatures  and  water-colours  hanging  here,  which 
were  originally  in  the  collection  of  Cardinal  Leo- 
pold de  Medici;  but  it  is  rather  a  matter  of  con- 
jecture to  assume  whom  they  may  represent. 

Here,  after  a  long  acquaintance  with  his  estimate 
of  others,  we  have  our  opportunity  to  judge  of  the 
work  of  Vasari.  Number  393  is  a  St.  Jerome;  the 
temptation  is  being  carried  on  unmercifully,  and 
the  steadfast  gaze  of  the  saint  is  fixed  systematically 
upon  the  crucifix  outside  his  hut.  He  is  beset  on 
all  sides.  Venus  and  Cupid  are  behind  him,  on  the 
left,  whispering  seductive  thoughts  into  his  ear; 
another  Cupid,  blindfold,  is  shooting  an  arrow  into 
his  very  eyes ;  while  still  a  third  is  teasing  him  from 
behind.  The  lion  at  his  feet  is  looking  up  sympa- 
thetically, as  if  to  encourage  him. 

Dear  old  Vasari!     Gossiping,  inaccurate,  imagi- 


322        xtbe  art  of  tbe  ©tttt  palace 

native,  and  yet  our  most  fascinating  quarry  for  real 
and  apochryphal  details  about  art  subjects  in  his 
day.  He  lived  from  15 12  to  1564,  in  the  thick  of 
the  golden  age  of  Italy;  and  it  is  to  his  diligent 
and  systematic  taking  of  notes,  which  he  used  with 
copious  amplifications,  that  we  owe  most  of  our 
knowledge  of  the  men  who  flourished  in  all  de- 
partments of  the  aesthetic  life  of  Italy  from  the 
earliest  times.  And  Vasari  so  readily  confesses 
that  his  book  is  full  of  imperfections  that  we  are 
quite  ready  to  overlook  them,  in  gratitude  for  all 
the  positive  information  that  we  receive.  And  he 
himself  understands  human  nature  well  enough  to 
know  that  this  will  be  so.  He  says :  "  And  now 
shall  it  happen  according  to  the  laws  usually  pre- 
vailing that,  having  thus  openly  confessed  my  short- 
cctfnings,  a  great  part  of  them  shall  be  forgiven  me." 
What  matters  it  if  Giorgio  Vasari  was  not  one 
of  the  greatest  artists  of  his  time?  If  he  had  been, 
he  would  never  have  found  time  to  prepare  these 
voluminous  biographies;  and  the  world,  richer  by 
a  few  more  great  pictures,  would  have  been  ines- 
timably poorer  by  the  loss  of  one  of  the  most  fas- 
cinating works  ever  produced  in  literature.  Later 
editors,  with  more  reliable  sources  of  information, 
have  corrected  his  errors.  He  is  the  Boswell  of 
Italian  art.     He  deals  with  all  the  painters,  sculp- 


Stan3a  ot  mipssea  323 

tors,  architects,  and  engravers,  covering  a  period 
of  over  half  a  thousand  years. 

But,  Hke  most  clever  persons  with  a  diversity  of 
gifts,  Vasari,  who  had  an  inimitable  genius  for 
writing,  and  small  talent  for  painting,  aspired  above 
all  things  to  be  recognized  as  an  artist.  Such  in- 
dustry and  zeal  as  he  chronicles  of  his  early  years 
ought  to  have  been  rewarded  by  greater  results. 
He  tells  how  he  and  his  contemporaries  used  to  go 
to  the  Sistine  Chapel  to  copy  the  frescoes  of  Michel- 
angelo, or  to  the  galleries  of  Rome  and  Florence 
to  copy  Raphael  and  others.  They  would  each  se- 
lect one  of  the  pictures  to  work  from,  and,  when 
they  returned  home  in  the  evening,  they  would  ex- 
change drawings,  each  copying  the  other's  work, 
so  that  in  the  long  run  each  man  might  possess  the 
entire  collection  of  sketches.  They  did  not  even 
take  time  for  meals :  "  Nor  did  we  breakfast  in 
the  morning,  except  on  what  we  ate  while  standing, 
and  that  very  frugally."  The  narrator  adds,  with 
an  unconscious  confession,  "  The  desire  of  glory 
was  indeed  ever  a  sufficiently  powerful  stimulus  to 
mine  exertions." 

A  most  prolific  painter,  Vasari  describes  at  length 
those  pictures  which  he  produced.  They  were  usu- 
ally well  drawn  and  mildly  acceptable;  but,  among 
the  works  of  the  Golden  Age,  they  can  never  com- 
pete with  the  best.    He  tells  of  this  special  picture. 


324         ^be  Hrt  of  tbe  ptttt  palace 

St.  Jerome,  and  we  will  quote  his  own  words  in 
describing  it :  "  In  a  large  picture,  moreover,  I  exe- 
cuted a  San  Girolamo  in  penitence,  making  the  fig- 
ure of  the  saint  the  size  of  life;  he  is  in  contem- 
plation on  the  death  of  Christ,  whom  he  has  before 
him  on  a  cross,  and  is  striking  his  breast,  while  he 
drives  far  from  him  those  mundane  thoughts  which 
did  not  cease  to  assail  him,  even  in  the  most  remote 
deserts,  as  he  most  fully  tells  us  in  his  own  writings. 
To  express  this  condition  of  things  intelligibly,  I 
depicted  Venus  with  Cupid  in  her  arms,  and  leading 
a  laughing  Love  by  the  hand;  she  is  flying  from 
the  place  made  sacred  by  that  devotion,  and  has 
suffered  the  quivers  and  arrows  of  her  son  to  fall 
to  the  earth.  The  arrows  which  Cupid  has  shot 
at  the  saint  turn  broken  toward  himself,  while  oth- 
ers, caught  as  they  are  falling,  are  brought  back  to 
Venus  by  her  doves." 

Michelangelo  was  a  kind  and  wise  friend  to  Va- 
sari,  delicately  hinting  to  him  how  well  it  would 
be  to  devote  himself  to  architecture;  but  Vasari 
never  erred  on  the  side  of  modesty  respecting  his 
own  talents,  and  simply  saw  in  this  advice  a  form 
of  general  encouragement. 

The  idea  of  writing  his  "  Lives  of  the  Painters  " 
was  first  suggested  to  Giorgio  at  a  supper  at  Car- 
dinal Farnese's.  Monsignor  Giovio,  who  had  just 
published  some  material  on  the  subject  of  the  arts 


TEMPTATION    OF    ST.    JEROME 
By  Vasari ;  in  the  Stanza  of  Justice 


<.: 


«t 


«■£ 


Stan3a  ot  xai^66e5  325 

ill  his  "  Eulogies,"  was  mentioning  to  the  company 
that  he  contemplated  adding  a  treatise  concerning 
men  who  had  been  famous  in  these  arts,  from  Cima- 
bue  to  his  own  times.  The  cardinal  and  Giorgio 
Vasari  began  to  talk  over  this  proposition,  and  it 
was  suggested  that  Giorgio  himself  should  assist 
in  this  undertaking,  he  being  recognized  as  an  his- 
torical student.  Vasari  agreed  to  contribute  to  the 
volume.  Accordingly  he  went  home  and  arranged 
his  notes,  etc.,  in  order,  and  presented  his  material 
to  Giovio.  Giovio  was  so  impressed  by  what  Vasari 
showed  him  that  he  unhesitatingly  turned  the  work 
over  to  him,  saying :  "  I  would  have  you  undertake 
this  work  yourself,  for  I  see  that  you  know  perfectly 
well  how  to  proceed  therein."  Vasari  thus  began 
his  monumental  book.  When  the  *'  Lives  of  the 
Artists "  was  finished,  Duke  Cosimo  desired  the 
author  to  give  it  to  the  ducal  printer,  Lorenzo 
Torentino.  This  was  done,  and  the  work  went 
forward. 

Vasari  superintended  all  the  decorations  and  fes- 
tivities incident  to  the  marriage  of  the  Duke  Cosimo 
L ;  he  constructed  the  corridor  which,  running 
above  the  houses  on  the  Ponte  Vecchio,  leads  to  the 
Uffizi  from  the  Pitti.  This  bridge-like  structure 
was  completed  in  five  months.  Vasari  visited  Rome, 
piously  kissed  the  toe  of  the  Pope,  travelled  a  good 
deal  in  Italy,  painting  vigorously  wherever  he  went, 


328        XTbe  Hrt  ot  tbe  pitti  palace 

face  than  usually  appears  in  saints  of  this  period 
of  art. 

It  is  finer  than  the  St.  Peter  by  the  same  artist, 
about  which  Ruskin  complains  that  there  is  too 
much  cock,  and  that  it  might  be  the  portrait  of  a 
poulterer,  judging  from  its  attributes!  This  pic- 
ture has  been  seen  in  the  Hall  of  Mars,  Number  91. 

Scarcelino's  Birth  of  a  Noble  Infant  is  an  amus- 
ing picture;  it  is  numbered  394.  It  represents  a 
vast  hall,  at  the  right  of  which  is  a  bed,  whereon 
the  mother  is  lying,  helping  herself  to  soup,  which 
is  being  presented  by  attendant  damsels.  In  the 
central  portion  of  this  large  hall,  the  new  baby  is 
being  bathed  by  several  court  ladies,  and  a  very 
independent  child  it  appears  to  be  for  its  tender 
age.  Naked  children  are  running  about,  playing 
with  dogs,  and  otherwise  disporting  themselves  dur- 
ing the  preoccupation  of  their  elders.  It  seems  to 
be  a  large  family  into  which  the  newcomer  has 
arrived,  and  the  other  children  all  appear  to  be  about 
of  the  same  age;  perhaps,  after  all,  they  may  be 
intended  as  cupids.  A  dog-fight  is  in  progress, 
being  encouraged  by  some  of  these  little  urchins  on 
the  right.  At  the  extreme  left  there  is  a  fireplace, 
and  some  women  are  holding  clothes  before  the 
blaze  to  warm  them  for  the  infant. 

Judith,  by  Artemesia  Gentilleschi,  is  full  of  swing. 
This  is  its  chief  merit.    The  maid  carries  a  basket 


stanza  ot  mii^sses  329 

with  the  head  in  it.  Perhaps  it  takes  a  woman  to 
portray  a  woman's  feeHngs  at  such  a  moment,  and 
Judith  is  distinctly  nervous,  although  she  is  shoul- 
dering her  sword  bravely.  She  is  starting  forward, 
and  laying  her  hand  on  the  shoulder  of  her  com- 
panion, as  if  to  say,  "  Hush !  what  noise  was  that?  " 
She  is  humanly  overawed  at  her  own  act,  and  is 
physically  unstrung.     The  figures  are  graceful. 

Salviati's  Patience  is  a  fat,  classically  clothed  per- 
sonage, chained  to  the  wall  by  her  ankle.  She  does 
not  so  much  suggest  patience  as  durance.  It  cannot 
be  called  a  thoughtful  rendering  of  the  idea.  Sal- 
viati  was  an  intimate  friend  of  Vasari  from  child- 
hood, and  often  they  worked  together. 

Among  the  Dutch  pictures  is  a  canvas  by  Honde- 
coeter,  born  at  Utrecht  in  1636,  who  painted  chiefly 
domestic  fowl,  but  occasionally  birds  of  a  more  dig- 
nified sort,  swans,  peacocks,  etc.  Quite  a  barn- 
yard is  here  to  be  seen  and  certainly  good  work 
of  its  kind ;  interesting  for  those  who  admire  these 
subjects. 

Here  is  Bronzino's  portrait  of  Cosimo  I.,  Num- 
ber 403.  Cosimo  was  born  on  the  nth  of  June, 
1519;  he  was  a  great  student  in  early  youth,  and 
ambitious  and  devoted  to  the  arts.  In  January, 
1536,  he  was  saluted  Duke  and  Governor  of  the 
Florentine  Republic.  His  genius  expanded  itself 
both  in  the  government  and  in  his  private  enter- 


330         ube  Brt  ot  tbe  pittl  ipalace 

prises,  so  that  in  time  he  became  the  first  prince  in 
Italy.  In  the  words  of  a  biographer,  "  He  erected 
so  many  and  such  supei'b  structures,  statues,  and 
obehsks  that  it  was  with  justice  that  he  said,  '  He 
found  a  city  of  stone,  and  he  left  one  of  marble.' 
He  made  Florence  the  '  fair '  truly  '  the  magnifi- 
cent,' and  it  became  the  seat  of  the  arts.  Men 
famous  in  every  branch  of  learning  were  sure  to 
find  protection  and  the  most  ample  provision  in  his 
court.  .  .  .  His  palace  was  as  large,  more  elegant, 
and  better  furnished  than  those  of  the  greatest 
monarchs."  Such  was  the  character  of  the  man 
who  bought  the  Pitti  Palace  for  his  wife,  Eleanor 
of  Toledo. 

A  later  portrait  of  Vittoria  della  Rovere  than 
the  delightful  Vestal  Virgin,  which  hangs  in  the 
Hall  of  Jupiter,  is  Number  404,  painted  jointly  by 
Sustermans  and  Carlo  Dolci,  but  usually  given  to 
the  latter.  It  shows  how  the  lady  grew  older,  grew 
stouter,  was  less  interesting  in  her  appearance  as 
the  years  went  on.  But  she  seems  to  have  been  a 
pious  dame,  inasmuch  as  she  elected  to  be  painted 
as  Vestal  Virgin  while  she  was  of  an  age  to  look 
the  part,  and  in  later  years  she  seems  to  have  en- 
joyed being  represented  as  a  sort  of  demi-nun,  wear- 
ing a  veil,  holding  a  cross  on  her  bosom,  and  car- 
rying a  book  of  devotions.    Her  whole  costume  is 


Stansa  ot  TIll^BBes  331 

reminiscent  of  the  religieuse,  but  of  no  particular 
order. 

In  Number  408  Oliver  Cromwell's  face  looks  out 
of  place  in  the  Pitti  Palace.  We  wonder  why  it 
should  hang  here  among  the  Medici  and  their  com- 
patriots until  we  learn  the  historic  reason  for  its 
being  in  the  Hall  of  Justice.  This  picture  was 
painted  when  Cromwell  was  in  his  fiftieth  year. 
It  was  executed  by  order  of  the  Grand  Duke  Ferdi- 
nand II.,  who  so  greatly  admired  Cromwell,  both 
for  his  courage  and  his  character,  that  he  ordered 
this  portrait  by  Sir  Peter  Lely.  Peter  Van  der 
Faes,  a  master  of  Flemish  art,  was  born  in  16 18, 
and  is  better  known  as  Sir  Peter  Lely,  the  painter 
of  court  beauties  of  Charles  II.  There  is  a  legend 
that  his  name  was  given  him  because  of  a  lily  which 
occurred  over  the  door  of  the  perfumer's  shop, 
which  was  his  home;  but  this  is  not  generally  ac- 
cepted. It  is  more  likely  that  his  father  changed 
his  name,  for  some  unexplained  reason,  from  Van 
der  Faes  to  Lely.  He  painted  portraits  quite  inde- 
pendently for  Charles  II.,  Charles  I.,  and  Cromwell. 
The  special  occasion  on  which  Ferdinand  had  been 
so  greatly  impressed  with  the  great  Puritan  was 
when  he  had  sent  his  messenger  directly  to  Pope 
Alexander  VII.,  saying  that,  if  the  persecutions  of 
the  Waldenses  did  not  cease,  the  English  fleet  would 
proceed   up  the   Tiber.      This   threat,    directed   so 


332         Ubc  Hrt  of  tbe  pttti  palace 

boldly  at  the  very  source  of  Italian  stability,  as  it 
was  then  understood,  caused  Duke  Ferdinand  II. 
to  have  a  lively  respect  for  Cromwell. 

The  picture  Number  406  is  usually  called  St.  Do- 
menico  in  a  Grotto,  but  it  would  be  more  accurate 
to  describe  it  as  a  grotto  with  St.  Domenico  in 
one  corner  of  it,  where  he  kneels  at  his  devotions. 
The  light  comes  from  the  centre.  At  the  right  are 
souls  rising,  through  the  intercessory  prayers  of  the 
saint,  from  hell  fire,  and  being  drawn  through  a 
small  aperture  by  angels.  Through  another  punc- 
ture in  the  side  of  the  cave  the  scene  of  an  assas- 
sination is  being  enacted. 

In  the  Hall  of  Justice  may  also  be  seen  three 
fine  portraits  by  Tintoretto ;  a  delightful  Madonna 
by  Manozzi,  Number  396;  a  St.  John  Evangelist 
by  Carlo  Dolci,  Number  397,  similar  to  the  one  in 
the  Hall  of  the  Iliad,  Number  217.  There  are  sev- 
eral landscapes  here  also,  two  by  Hollanders,  Num- 
ber 411  and  Number  412;  the  first  by  Jan  Both, 
who  was  called  Both  dTtalia,  because,  although  he 
was  born  in  Utrecht  in  16 10,  he  worked  also  in 
Italy,  where  he  died,  in  Venice,  in  1650.  The  other 
is  by  Swanevelt,  called  Herman  dTtalia  because  he 
also  adopted  Italy  as  his  field  for  operation,  dying 
at  Rome  in  1690. 


CHAPTER    XII. 

THE  STANZA  OF  FLORA  AND  THE  STANZA  DEI  PUTTI 

We  pass  next  into  the  Stanza  of  Flora,  which  is 
almost  as  famous  for  Canova's  well-known  statue 
of  Venus  as  for  its  paintings. 

Antonio  Canova  was  the  link  between  the  Renais- 
sance and  modern  sculpture.  He  was  the  greatest 
man  in  his  art  in  the  eighteenth  century,  following 
the  decadence  which  had  occurred  during  the  early 
part  of  that  century,  and  preceding  the  modern 
ideas  of  sculpture  which  govern  the  men  of  to-day. 
He  was  born  in  Possagno  on  the  morning  of  All 
Saints'  Day,  1757.  For  the  first  twelve  years  of 
his  life,  he  lived  in  a  mud-lined  hut  in  the  Alps, 
in  which  he  first  saw  the  light. 

His  father,  Pietro  Canova,  was  a  stone-cutter, 
and  the  young  Antonio  from  the  first  was  free  with 
the  mallet  and  chisel.  He  lost  both  his  parents  while 
he  was  a  child,  and  continued  to  live  in  the  same 
place  with  his  grandfather,  a  genial  old  man,  who 
brought  him  up  well,  and  who  was  a  genius  in  his 

333 


334        XTbc  Hrt  ot  tbe  pttti  palace 

humble  way,  also  a  stone-cutter,  but  possessing  some 
knowledge  of  architecture  and  a  good  deal  of  talent 
in  representing  the  human  figure  in  marble.  Exam- 
ples of  his  work  may  still  be  seen  in  the  Church  of 
Monfumo. 

The  story  of  his  first  opportunity  to  come  before 
an  appreciative  public  is  interesting.  Near  his  home 
lay  the  great  estates  of  Signor  Giovanni  Falier,  a 
member  of  the  patrician  family  of  Venice.  Repairs 
were  continually  needed  at  this  place,  and  Antonio 
and  his  grandfather  often  worked  there.  The  ami- 
able boy,  with  his  unassuming  manners,  but  with 
his  lithe  young  figure  and  beautiful  head  and  face, 
attracted  the  signor;  and  his  son,  Giuseppe  Falier, 
became  intimate  with  Antonio.  The  cheerful  old 
grandfather,  who  was  quite  a  wit,  was  also  an  ob- 
ject of  interest  to  the  family.  One  day,  at  a  festival 
which  was  taking  place  at  the  Falier  estates,  the 
Venetian  nobility  were  present,  and  everything  was 
being  done  on  a  very  superb  scale,  when  suddenly 
the  steward  saw  that  there  had  been  an  oversight : 
the  domestics  had  neglected  to  provide  any  large 
decorative  piece  to  be  placed  in  the  centre  of  the 
table.  The  servants  were  in  despair;  they  went  to 
Canova's  grandfather  for  a  suggestion,  but  the  old 
man  could  think  of  nothing  that  would  be  appro- 
priate. Suddenly  young  Antonio  exclaimed  that  he 
had  an  idea,  and  asked  for  a  large  quantity  of  but- 


Ubc  Stan3a  ot  iflora  33s 

ten  When  this  was  brought,  he  immediately  mod- 
elled a  lion  with  such  effect  that  when  it  was  placed 
upon  the  table  the  guests  all  exclaimed  and  asked 
for  the  artist.  The  guests  as  a  body  voted  to  send 
for  Antonio,  and,  blushing,  he  entered  the  hall,  and 
was  presented  as  a  new  discovery  to  the  noble  Vene- 
tians. From  this  time  forward  the  boy  had  patrons 
who  were  ready  to  examine  and  purchase  his  work. 
With  his  intermediate  work  we  have  no  time 
or  occasion  to  deal.  For  many  years,  in  Venice  and 
Rome,  Canova  constantly  produced  work  estimated 
to  be,  according  to  the  taste  of  his  day,  the  greatest 
since  Michelangelo.  At  last,  when  in  the  Napole- 
onic wars  Italy  was  stripped  of  many  of  her  art 
treasures,  the  celebrated  Venus  de  Medici  was  car- 
ried away  from  Florence,  where  she  had  so  long 
reigned.  The  empty  pedestal  was  to  be  filled.  Ca- 
nova was  elected  to  supply  the  loss.  He  was  very 
modest  in  accepting  this  offer,  saying  that  "  he 
wished  to  avoid  the  imputation  of  appearing  to 
deem  himself  capable  of  producing  anything  equal 
to  the  Venus  de  Medici,"  and  adding,  in  a  letter, 
*'  The  Greeks,  equally  with  nature,  are  my  instruct- 
ors ;  it  behooves  me,  then,  to  preserve  the  deference 
which  is  due  from  a  scholar  to  his  preceptors.  My 
Venus,  therefore,  shall  remain  at  a  humble  distance, 
like  an  attendant  nymph,  who,  in  her  absence,  may 
attract  for  a  moment  the  regards  of  the  sorrowing 


336         XTbe  Hrt  of  tbe  ptttt  palace 

votaries  of  the  departed  divinity."  This  was  in 
1806. 

Canova's  Venus  made  a  great  impression  upon 
Mrs.  Jameson,  who  saw  it  when  it  stood  in  the 
private  apartments  of  the  duke  in  Florence.  "  It  is/' 
she  says,  "  a  triumph  of  modem  art,  but  not  a  god- 
dess." To  Mrs.  Jameson  the  difference  between  this 
Venus  and  the  Venus  de  Medici  seemed  very  great, 
but  she  adds  that  Canova's  is  a  very  beautiful  crea- 
tion. 

The  attitude  of  this  famous  and  well-known 
statue  is  similar  to  that  of  its  prototype,  but  not 
copied  from  it.  While  the  Venus  de  Medici  is  rather 
short  and  stocky  for  our  modem  taste,  she  embodied 
exactly  the  round  and  smooth  ideal  of  the  early 
nineteenth  century.  Canova,  foreseeing,  perhaps,  a 
little  of  what  changes  were  to  come  over  the  tastes 
of  an  increasingly  intellectual  generation,  has  made 
his  goddess  slighter,  more  active,  and  taller.  In 
these  particulars  he  has  improved  upon  the  propor- 
tions of  the  original.  She  is  represented,  like  the 
Medici,  as  having  just  issued  from  the  bath,  but 
she  is  draped  more  than  the  classic  statue.  This 
drapery  is  no  defect,  for  the  suggestion  of  graceful 
limbs  and  other  charms  which  issue  from  the  folds 
that  she  has  hastily  caught  up  before  her  is  rather 
piquant  than  otherwise,  though  less  modest  in  a 
certain  sense,  because  it  shows  a  consciousness  of 


-r..^-l 


...^vtV 


Xtbe  Stan3a  of  if  lora  337 

nudity.  One  corner  of  the  drapery  falls  obliquely 
in  front,  and  the  rest  falls  gracefully  to  the  ground 
in  small  Greek  folds.  The  figure  is  poised  on  the 
right  foot,  with  the  left  foot  a  little  behind,  the  left 
knee  drawn  in  close  to  the  right  one.  The  right 
arm  is  concealed  by  the  mantle,  which  is  thrown 
over  the  right  shoulder,  but  the  left  arm  is  entirely 
undraped,  as  is  the  whole  side,  so  that  the  extremely 
graceful  line  from  neck  to  ankle  is  unbroken.  The 
left  hand  holds  the  garment  up  to  her  breast,  but 
not  enough  to  prevent  the  beautiful  modelling  from 
being  seen. 

The  lines  of  the  upper  part  of  the  figure  of  Ca- 
nova's  Venus  are  delicate,  with  the  slight  and  vir- 
ginal charm  of  early  youth,  rather  than  with  the 
voluptuous  maturity  of  the  Venus  de  Medici.  The 
ideal  is  more  spiritual  and  more  tender.  The  head 
is  turned  to  the  left,  and  in  this  is  a  little  unnatural, 
because  if  the  sound  of  approaching  steps,  which 
she  has  evidently  heard,  came  from  that  quarter, 
the  instinct  would  have  been  to  drape  that  side  first, 
whereas  Venus  has  been  careless  about  her  left  side, 
while  throwing  the  mantle  fully  over  her  right. 
This  little  oversight  is  a  justification  of  Ruskin, 
when  he  asserts  that  Canova  was  lacking  in  imagi- 
nation. But  whether  natural  or  not,  it  is  effective, 
and  her  startled  expression  is  well  indicated  by  the 
turn  in  the  throat,  which  is  exquisitely  graceful. 


340        TLbc  Hrt  of  tbe  pittt  palace 

taining  Christina  of  Sweden  on  her  way  to  Rome, 
and  received  the  Russian  ambassadors  on  their  way 
to  the  papal  court.  He  also  materially  helped 
Charles  II.  when  he  was  an  exile,  and  numerous 
other  kind  and  hospitable  deeds  are  recorded  of 
him.  He  bought  the  portrait  of  Cromwell  by  Sir 
Peter  Lely,  which  has  already  been  noticed,  he  be- 
ing a  great  admirer  of  Cromwell.  With  the  super- 
stition of  his  family,  Ferdinand  II.  attributed  all 
his  success  to  Our  Lady  of  Loretto,  and  sent  to 
her  shrine  a  missal  with  twelve  topazes  on  the  cover, 
and  a  silver  galley  four  feet  long,  inscribed,  "  Ferdi- 
nand de  Medici,  Grand  Duke  of  Tuscany,  dedicated 
this  to  the  blessed  Virgin  for  preserving  his  galleys 
from  the  plague." 

Among  other  naval  acquisitions,  Ferdinand  cap- 
tured thirty-five  galleys  from  Mohammedan  pirates 
in  1642.  He  was  a  just  ruler,  punishing  vice  and 
rewarding  virtue  with  some  system;  and,  although 
he  was  a  strict  tax-collector,  his  subjects  realized 
that  they  received  the  value  of  their  expenditure  in 
good  protection  and  improved  conditions  of  living. 
This  prince  married,  in  1623,  Vittoria  della  Rovere; 
and  she  brought  to  the  Pitti  Palace  all  the  personal 
riches  and  valuable  collections  of  the  ancient  family 
of  Rovere,  she  being  the  only  daughter  of  that 
house.  He  died  March  24,  1670.  An  account  of 
his  funeral,  which  w^as  one  of  the  most  magnificent 


Ube  Stansa  of  fflora  341 

pageants  ever  witnessed  in  Florence,  is  given  by 
Mr.  Style,  who  was  present  on  that  occasion,  and 
who  wrote  "A  Voyage  in  Italy"  in  1671.  He 
writes  as  follows:  "This  May  27,  1670,  died  the 
great  Duke  Ferdinand,  of  an  apoplexy  and  dropsy; 
foure  dayes  after,  his  bodye  was  embalmed,  and 
lay  in  very  grate  state  eight  dayes,  being  dressed 
in  all  his  robes;  afterwards  buried  at  St.  Law- 
rences'. The  funeral  was  very  august,  beginning 
at  nine,  but  they  were  from  that  time  till  one  in 
the  morning  before  it  was  finished;  there  were 
1,500  monckes  with  tapers,  all  the  bishops  and  arch- 
bishops of  the  domain,  all  the  knights  of  St. 
Stephen  in  their  robes,  viz. :  white  sattin  and  crim- 
son velvet;  the  present  Grate  Duke  accompanied 
by  his  brother  Prince  Francesco;  their  mourning 
cloakes  carried  up;  after  the  corpse  several  horses, 
and  the  Duke's  own  pad,  and  English  horse;  all 
the  officers  of  the  late  Duke,  with  their  broken  bas- 
tions; a  horse-guard  of  Germans,  beating  a  dead 
march ;  lastly,  a  grate  number  of  coaches  with  sixe 
horses,  finished  the  ceremony.  At  St.  Lawrence's 
chapel  door,  the  Pope's  Nuncio  and  other  prelates 
received  the  bodye,  who  placed  it  under  a  very  rich 
pavillion,  while  the  panegyrick  was  speaking;  then 
putt  it  in  the  vault.  Sir  John  Finch  was  pleased  to 
procure  me  a  windowe  in  the  Palace  of  the  Duke  of 
Strozzi." 


342         Ube  Hrt  ot  tbe  pitti  palace 

Four  landscapes  by  Poussin  hang  in  the  Stanza 
of  Flora.  They  show  a  certain  similarity.  In  one 
a  river  is  seen  winding  between  bluffs,  and  cows 
and  herdsmen  are  in  the  foreground.  In  another, 
the  ruins  of  a  temple  are  seen  at  the  left,  while  the 
right  of  the  picture  is  treated  as  an  undulating  val- 
ley. In  a  third,  a  satyr  and  a  goat  are  having  a 
pitch-battle  in  the  foreground,  butting  at  one  an- 
other with  a  will.  These  are  typical  landscapes  of 
Poussin,  not  Nicolas,  who  was  the  principal  master 
of  Claude  Lorraine,  but  Caspar  Dughet,  called 
Poussin,  who  was  a  native  of  Rome,  born  in  1613, 
and  who  painted  there  until  his  death  in  1675. 

Ruskin  complains  that  Poussin's  distances  are  too 
indefinite,  —  that  they  might  be  fifty  miles  away, 
or  they  might  equally  well  be  five  miles  distant, 
so  far  as  any  clear  indication  is  concerned;  that 
he  did  not  study  nature,  but  composed  what  he 
considered  a  "  handsome  picture."  He  admits  that 
Poussin's  pictures  have  often  serious  feeling  and 
solemn  colour,  but  that  otherwise  they  are  virtue- 
less,  and  that  the  admiration  which  has  been  lav- 
ished on  them  is  unintelligent.  He  further  berates 
Poussin  for  introducing  "  wreaths  of  cloud,  with 
their  unpleasant  edges  cut  as  hard  and  solid  and 
opaque  and  smooth  as  thick  black  paint  can  make 
them;  rolled  up  over  one  another  like  a  dirty  sail 
badly  reefed."     In  fact,  there  is  nothing  too  severe 


Ube  Stansa  ot  fflora  343 

for  Ruskin  to  say  about  Poussin's  interpretation  of 
sky.  His  foliage  elicits  similar  compliments,  and 
his  tree-trunks  are  likened  to  carrots  or  parsnips. 
Just  hear  Ruskin  on  the  subject  of  Poussin's  trees : 
"  Circular  groups  of  greenish  touches,  always  the 
same  size,  shape,  and  distance  from  each  other ;  con- 
taining so  exactly  the  same  number  of  touches  each 
that  you  cannot  tell  one  from  another."  They  are 
"  laid  over  each  other  like  fish-scales,  the  shade 
being  most  carefully  made  darker  as  it  recedes  from 
each,  until  it  comes  to  the  edge  of  the  next,  against 
which  it  cuts  with  the  same  sharp,  circular  line,  and 
then  begins  to  decline  again  until  the  canvas  is  cov- 
ered, with  about  as  much  intelligence  or  feeling 
of  art  as  a  house-painter  has  in  marbling  a  wains- 
cot .  .  .  what  is  there  in  this  which  the  most  de- 
termined prejudice  in  favour  of  the  old  masters  can 
for  a  moment  suppose  to  resemble  trees?  "  So  does 
Caspar  Poussin  suffer  at  the  hands  of  the  severe 
Slade  professor. 

Now  to  look  for  a  moment  on  the  other  side. 
Hear  the  Abbate  Lanzi,  in  the  eighteenth  century, 
about  a  hundred  years  earlier  than  Ruskin :  "  Pous- 
sin, contrary  to  Salvator,  selected  the  most  enchant- 
ing scenes  and  the  most  beautiful  aspects  of  nature; 
the  graceful  poplar,  the  spreading  plane-tree,  limpid 
fountains,  verdant  meads,  gently  undulating  hills, 
villas  delightfully  situated,  calculated  to  dispel  the 


344        Ube  art  of  tbe  IPitti  palace 

cares  of  state,  and  to  add  to  the  delights  of  retire- 
ment." Evidently  Lanzi  was  soothed  by  those  fea- 
tures which  set  Ruskin's  very  teeth  on  edge.  Lanzi 
mentions  as  a  virtue  in  aesthetics  what  Ruskin  con- 
demns as  a  sin:  that  Poussin  composed  ideal  land- 
scapes, like  those  imagined  by  Tasso  in  the  Gardens 
of  Armida.  He  asserts  that  it  is  the  opinion  of 
many  that  there  is  not  a  greater  name  among  land- 
scape painters.  "  Everything  that  Caspar  expresses 
is  founded  in  nature.  In  his  leaves  he  is  as  varied 
as  the  trees  themselves  ...  in  Caspar  everything 
displays  elegance  and  erudition."  That  is  the  key- 
note to  this  difference  of  opinion  between  the  eight- 
eenth and  the  nineteenth  century  ideals  of  land- 
scape. In  the  eighteenth  century  a  man  used  his 
imagination  and  inventive  faculties;  the  painter 
who  could  most  readily  suggest  a  country-side  as 
it  should  be  was  the  finer  artist;  in  the  nineteenth 
century  the  painter  who  could  portray  nature  as  it 
really  is  stands  at  the  head.  Nature  has  not 
changed,  and  fashion  determines  the  standard,  as 
in  all  else.  Lanzi  further  admires  this  ideal  quality 
in  Poussin,  remarking  that  his  figures  are  either 
historical,  or  poets  crowned  with  laurels,  or  hawk- 
ing parties,  instead  of  shepherds  and  peasants ;  and 
the  whole  is  finished  in  a  style  almost  equal  to  min- 
iature painting. 

After  presenting  these  two  extremes  oi  criticism 


XTbe  Stansa  ot  jflora  34s 

regarding  Caspar  Poussin,  we  recommend  to  the 
reader  a  study  of  the  four  specimens  of  his  work, 
Numbers  416,  421,  436,  and  441. 

Many  visitors  fail  to  notice  a  painting  of  St. 
Jerome,  by  Calvart,  because  it  has  unfortunately 
darkened  with  age,  but  the  original  work  must  have 
been  one  of  unrivalled  beauty,  especially  the  head 
of  the  central  figure  of  the  saint,  of  which  Rem- 
brandt might  have  been  proud.  St.  Jerome,  writing, 
is  sitting  at  his  table.  The  accessories  are  a  trifle 
modem,  but  nothing  can  detract  from  the  handling 
of  the  light  and  shade  upon  the  bent  head,  with  its 
mist  of  white  hair  merging  into  the  shadow.  At 
the  left  of  the  picture  stand  two  angels.  The  lights 
are  thrown  very  efifectively,  if  rather  artificially, 
upon  the  facial  angle  of  one  of  them,  emphasizing 
the  beauty  of  the  face.  A  crucifix  stands  on  the 
table  at  the  right,  and  below  it  an  open  book,  show- 
ing an  illumination  of  the  Madonna  and  Child. 
Near  the  inkstand  rests  the  upper  half  of  a  human 
skull  on  a  closed  book.  There  may  be  a  significance 
in  this :  the  sealed  volume  of  the  earthly  grave, 
and  the  fair  open  pages  of  the  volume  when  sub- 
jected to  the  test  of  the  redeeming  power  of  the 
cross.  Calvart  was  a  painter  of  the  Flemish  school, 
living  between   1565  and  1619. 

There  are  two  landscapes  here  by  the  Flemish 
artist,   Carl  Ruthart,   who  worked   from    i66o  to 


34^        Ube  Hrt  ot  tbe  pitti  palace 

1680.  One  of  these.  Number  418,  represents  ani- 
mals in  a  state  of  domesticity ;  it  looks  like  a  cattle 
show.  The  other,  Number  438,  would  have  been 
an  acceptable  circus  poster,  being  a  representation 
of  wild  creatures  of  all  sorts  tearing  a  deer  to  pieces ; 
panthers,  lions,  and  leopards  are  pouncing  on  him 
from  all  quarters.  It  is  a  restless  and  inartistic  ar- 
rangement of  unpleasant  beasts. 

The  Genius  of  Art,  Number  422,  is  painted  by 
Riminaldi,  and  is  represented  by  a  youth,  nude,  and 
with  wings;  the  attributes  of  the  arts  are  lying  all 
about  him  in  disorder  on  the  floor.  His  attitude  is 
extremely  lithe  and  graceful.  At  the  left  side  lie 
a  lute,  a  spear,  and  a  rapier,  while  at  the  right  stands 
on  a  higher  plane  a  globe  made  of  framework, 
wreathed  with  laurels;  in  this  composition  there 
occur  also  scales,  palettes,  and  brushes,  bows  and 
arrows  and  a  helmet,  and  other  bits  of  armour. 
The  Genius  himself  is  seated  on  a  fragment  of  archi- 
tectural ruin. 

Furini's  Adam  and  Eve  is  something  of  a  de- 
parture from  the  usual  treatment  o-f  the  subject. 
Adam  and  his  wife  are  confessing  on  their  knees 
and  in  attitudes  of  pleading,  to  the  Almighty,  who, 
having  been  walking  in  the  garden,  is  seated  under 
the  fatal  tree.  The  representation  of  the  heavenly 
Father  is  entirely  human,  —  he  looks  as  if  he  might 
have  been  intended  for  one  of  the  apostles.     Fran- 


ALLEGORICAL    HEAD 
By  Furini;  in  the  Stanza  of  Flora 


umm'i  Of  t^^^^f 

DEPARTMENT  UF 


Ube  Stansa  ot  ff lora  347 

cesco  Furini  was  called  the  Guido  and  the  Albano 
of  the  Florentine  school.  He  was  born  about  1600, 
and  lived  until  1649.  He  was  original,  in  spite  of 
the  fact  that  he  was  a  great  student  of  other  mas- 
ters; he  did  not  allow  any  traces  of  their  work 
to  creep  into  his  own  manner;  rather,  he  entered 
into  their  spirit,  and  then  allowed  his  own  individ- 
uality to  have  free  play.  He  studied  and  planned 
his  pictures  for  a  long  time,  but  the  actual  rendering 
of  them  was  a  quick  process  with  him.  He  was 
ordained  priest  when  he  was  forty.  He  handled  his 
flesh  tints  with  great  mellowness,  and  in  his  later 
pictures  this  mannerism  becomes  so  marked  that 
there  seems  to  be  almost  a  mist  about  his  figures. 
The  beautiful  model  for  Eve  in  this  picture  appears 
again  in  an  allegorical  head  which  hangs  directly 
underneath;  a  more  exquisite  pose  of  head  and 
shoulder  it  would  be  difficult  to  find.  In  each  case 
the  face  is  in  profile.  The  type  is  most  alluring  and 
graceful.  The  girl  in  the  small  picture  holds  a 
chalice  in  her  hand. 

Calumny,  by  Franciabigio,  is  based  upon  the  de- 
scription by  Lucian  of  a  picture  of  the  same  name 
painted  by  Apelles.  The  theme  of  Apelles  in  his 
ancient  painting,  as  we  learn  from  Lucian,  was  the 
visualizing  of  the  emotions  and  ideas  in  physical 
shape;  it  might  be  called  a  psychological  allegory. 
Apelles  was  a  Greek  artist  who  was  famous  for  his 


348         XT  be  Htt  of  tbe  pitti  palace 

colour,  and  painted  many  allegorical  subjects, 
though  none  of  his  works  have  survived.  Lucian 
tells  how  his  jealous  brother  artists  had  maligned 
Apelles  to  King  Ptolemy,  who  had  been  his  pro- 
tector up  to  this  time.  The  king  listened  to  the 
gossip,  and  Apelles,  learning  of  this  change  in  the 
attitude  of  his  patron,  took  his  revenge  by  painting 
the  King  of  Egypt  as  Midas  with  ass's  ears.  Inno- 
cence is  dragged  by  the  hair  by  Calumny,  holding 
a  torch.  She  is  accompanied  by  Hypocrisy  and 
Treachery.  Envy,  in  dull  clothes,  precedes  the 
group.  The  king  listens  to  Suspicion  and  Igno- 
rance, and  holds  out  his  hand  in  approbation  to 
Calumny.  Falsehood  is  represented  as  the  mother 
of  Calumny.  Truth,  a  naked  girl,  appeals  to  heaven 
for  justice. 

The  Madonna  and  Child,  by  Cigoli,  —  a  rather 
disagreeable  painter  of  the  late  sixteenth  and  early 
seventeenth  centuries,  —  is  most  unsatisfactory. 
Nothing  could  be  contrived  to  look  less  like  any 
possible  conception  of  the  Virgin.  A  mediaeval 
missal  lies  open  on  her  knees,  and  the  industrious 
Child  is  following  the  lines  along  with  his  finger, 
while  his  mother,  although  in  a  perfunctory  way 
she  is  pointing  to  the  book,  is  much  more  interested 
in  having  her  portrait  painted.  She  sits  facing  the 
audience,  as  erect  and  self-conscious  as  the  sentinel 
of   an   arsenal   when  under   feminine  observation. 


XTbe  Stansa  of  flora  349 

Note,  however,  what  a  crowning  success  this  painter 
might  have  had  as  designer  for  a  fashion  paper  had 
he  Hved  to-day !  Was  ever  a  more  fascinating  sleeve 
devised  ? 

Number  431  is  a  St.  John  Preaching,  by  Tassi. 
St.  John  stands  on  the  left,  on  a  sHght  elevation, 
exhorting  the  motiey  crowd  of  listeners.  All  na- 
tions seem  to  have  turned  out  to  hear  him.  In  the 
centre  is  a  man  in  a  short-skirted  robe,  with  high 
boots,  and  a  hat  with  feathers  and  quills,  —  he  is 
probably  the  artist's  conception  of  an  Indian,  or 
else  a  Russian.  He  wears  a  fur  mantle.  There  is 
a  turbaned  Turk  on  horseback,  and  behind  him  a 
black  Moor  with  the  features  of  a  negro.  The  ex- 
pression on  the  face  of  the  horse  is  intended  to  be 
forcible;  evidently  the  animal  is  being  converted 
by  the  preaching !  A  poor  family  is  seen  in  a  wheel- 
barrow in  the  foreground,  and  a  Bedouin  appears 
in  another  place;  people  are  also  approaching  in 
a  boat. 

A  portrait  of  Lavinia  Fontana,  painted  by  her- 
self, is  seen  in  Number  433.  Lavinia  was  the 
daughter  of  Prospero  Fontana,  an  artist  of  Bologna. 
She  was  born  in  1552,  and  lived  to  be  sixty-two 
years  of  age,  dying  in  Rome  in  16 14.  She  is  here 
represented  as  rather  a  young  woman,  with  her 
hair  dressed  in  the  approved  manner  of  the  time, 
with  a  tall,  stately  collar  of  stiffened  lace  behind 


350        Ube  Hrt  of  tbe  pittt  palace 

her  head,  and  strings  of  pearls  hanging  far  down  on 
her  corsage.  Her  mantle  is  cut  about  the  edges  in 
blocks,  and  the  sleeves  are  of  brocade.  Lavinia 
Fontana  was  an  artist  of  some  note,  and  painted 
several  large  Scripture  scenes,  Christ  and  the 
Woman  of  Samaria,  at  Naples,  being  among  her 
chief  works.  She  was  an  accurate  and  minute 
painter  of  ornament,  and  the  Roman  ladies  liked 
to  employ  her  better  than  any  man,  because  she 
treated  their  jewels  and  brocades  with  more  elab- 
oration and  sympathy.  She  was  better  as  a  colour- 
ist  than  as  a  designer.  Her  work  is  not  intellectual, 
but  refined  to  the  verge  of  neatness. 

Giovanni  da  san  Giovanni,  usually  called  Manozzi, 
has  painted  a  cook  who  seems  superior  to  his  posi- 
tion. He  is  a  jaunty  individual,  with  a  fur  hat 
flared  away  from  his  face,  with  much  action  in  the 
brim.  His  hair  is  rather  long  and  tied  with  a  rib- 
bon bow  in  the  back  of  his  neck ;  in  fact,  he  is  quite 
coquettish.  He  wears  a  heavy  scarf  flung  over  his 
shoulder,  which  is  presented  to  the  spectator;  the 
back  is  slightly  turned,  and  the  face  looks  over  the 
left  shoulder.  In  one  hand  he  holds  a  chicken,  and 
in  the  other  a  knife  with  which  he  is  about  to 
dress  it. 

There  is  no  more  charming  picture  in  the  gallery 
than  the  Repose  in  Egypt,  by  Van  Dyck.  It  has 
been  engraved  in  a  more  flowery  period  of  art,  under 


Ube  Stan3a  ot  fflora  351 

the  title  of  "The  Queeii  of  Angels."  And  such 
it  really  is.  The  baby  angels  are  heavenly,  although 
they  savour  of  the  beauty  of  earth ;  still,  the  joyous 
spiritual  grace  in  their  small  bodies  stands  almost 
alone  in  creations  of  its  kind.  The  mother  and  child 
are  seated  on  a  rustic  bank  in  an  exquisitely  restful 
landscape;  St.  Joseph  is  near  by  in  an  attitude  of 
relaxation,  and  all  about  are  these  cheerful  holy 
children  making  melody  and  diversion  for  the  little 
boy  on  the  Virgin's  knee.  The  little  angel  who 
stands  in  an  attitude  of  ineffable  grace  at  the  right 
toward  the  centre  of  the  picture,  his  arms  both  ex- 
tended and  an  expression  of  infantine  bliss  on  his 
upturned  face,  lives  long  in  one's  memory.  Ruskin 
might  think  that  these  angels  resemble  cupids,  — 
perhaps  they  do,  —  but  for  that  matter,  possibly 
cupids  resemble  angels.  How  shall  we  know  until 
we  have  an  opportunity  to  compare  them?  This 
picture  was  from  the  Gerini  Gallery. 

A  picture  of  some  originality  is  that  of  Jesus  as 
an  infant  crowning  the  Madonna,  painted  by  Ales- 
sandro  Allori,  and  hanging  over  the  door  which 
leads  to  the  Sala  dei  Putti.  It  represents  the  Virgin 
Mary  in  the  dress  of  a  peasant  girl,  with  her  hair 
hanging  down  her  back,  the  front  locks  being  tied 
up  at  the  two  sides  with  little  bows.  The  child  on 
her  knee  is  reaching  up  to  crown  her  with  a  chap- 


352        Zbc  Hrt  ot  tbe  ipitti  palace 

let  of  flowers ;  in  his  other  hand  he  holds  the  crown 
of  thorns. 

Gentilischi  has  again  painted  Judith,  Number 
444,  in  the  act  of  raising  the  sword  to  slay  the 
unsuspecting  Holof ernes,  who  lies  rapt  in  slumber; 
she  has  a  most  disinterested  look  on  her  face,  like 
one  who  is  swinging  Indian  clubs  for  exercise.  Her 
attendant  raises  an  expostulatory  hand,  and  casts 
down  her  eyes,  as  if  the  sight  were  going  to  prove 
too  much  for  her.  But  Judith  looks  too  stolid  to 
be  affected  by  such  an  episode. 

We  go  now  into  the  last  small  room,  the  Stanza 
of  the  Putti,  so  called  because  of  the  winged  cupids 
on  the  ceiling. 

A  sweet  Madonna  and  Child,  by  Del  Sarto,  is 
seen  at  once  through  the  door  from  the  Stanza  of 
Flora  into  the  Sala  dei  Putti.  The  mother,  in  pro- 
file, holds  her  child  on  her  lap.  He  is  not  so  suc- 
cessfully painted  as  the  Virgin,  being  thick  and  un- 
infantile  in  his  proportions. 

Among  the  Flemish  landscapes  which  hang  here 
are  two  by  Paul  Bril,  who  was  a  painter  and  en- 
graver, bom  in  Antwerp  in  1554. 

Two  canvases  of  flowers  and  fruit  are  also  strik- 
ing, Numbers  451  and  455.  They  are  painted  by 
a  Dutch  artist  named  Rachel  Ruysch. 

In  Salvator's  landscape,  Peace  Burning  the  Arms 
of  War,  Ruskin  alludes  to  the  "pure  ignorance 


Ubc  Stansa  ot  jflora  353 

of  tree  structure  "  displayed :  "  Every  one  of  the 
arrangements  of  the  tree  branches  is  impossible, 
and  the  trunk  of  the  tree  could  not  for  a  moment 
support  the  foliage  it  is  loaded  with."  This  picture 
is  Number  453. 

In  the  Sala  dei  Putti  there  are  four  examples  of 
the  work  of  Willem  von  Aelst,  who  was  a  painter 
of  Delft,  born  in  1620.  He  studied  with  his  uncle, 
an  artist  of  the  same  style.  Their  specialty  was 
dead  game  and  fruits. 

A  marine,  by  Jan  Dubbels,  hangs  here.  Number 
457.  He  was  a  painter  of  the  Dutch  school  who 
flourished  about  1729. 

Number  461  is  Domenichino's  Venus  and  Satyr. 
Venus  lies  upon  a  couch  composed  of  flat  rock,  and 
embraces  Cupid  who  stands  by  her.  A  satyr  at  the 
left  looks  jealously  on,  and  evidently  has  designs 
upon  the  goddess.  One  of  his  sylvan  train  has 
stolen  round  behind  the  couple,  and  is  trying  to 
possess  himself  of  Cupid's  quiver,  which  has  fallen 
to  the  ground  unobserved. 

Jan  van  Huysums  has  been  called  the  Correggio 
of  flower  painting.  Extreme  minuteness  is  a  char- 
acteristic of  his  work;  and  the  delicate  vase  of 
flowers  which  may  here  be  seen,  in  the  Sala  dei 
Putti,  Number  462,  is  evidence  of  his  gemus  in  this 
direction.    His  treatment  is  bright  and  sunny.    Jan 


354        XTbe  Hrt  ot  tbe  pitti  palace 

van  Huysums  died  in  1749,  in  Amsterdam,  where 
he  was  born  in  1682. 

Here  also  hangs  a  marine  by  Ludolf  Bakhuisen, 
who  was  a  Dutch  artist  born  at  Emden  in  1631. 
This  marine  is  crowded  with  boats  pitching  at  every 
angle.     Bakhuisen  died  at  Amsterdam  in   1709. 

In  Number  465  Carlo  Dolci  has  painted  the 
Vision  of  St.  John  on  Patmos,  but  the  visions  are 
too  far  away  in  the  heavens  to  be  properly  balanced 
to  the  proportions  of  the  picture.  St.  John  is  seen 
reclining.  The  vision  is  of  a  *'  woman  clothed  with 
the  sun,  and  the  new  moon  under  her  feet,  and 
upon  her  head  a  crown  of  twelve  stars."  She  is 
also  endowed  with  wings,  according  to  the  Scrip- 
tures :  "  And  to  the  woman  were  given  two  wings 
of  a  great  eagle ;  that  she  might  fly  into  the  wilder- 
ness;" in  the  vision  also  appears  "another  great 
w^onder  in  heaven;  and  behold  a  great  red  dragon 
having  seven  heads  and  seven  crowns  upon  his 
heads."  On  a  jutting  rock  by  the  saint  is  the  em- 
blematic eagle  of  St.  John,  with  wings  spread  for 
flight. 

Salvator  Rosa's  Diogenes  is  Number  470.  In 
the  midst  of  a  group  of  trees,  with  peasants  as  spec- 
tators, Diogenes  is  seen  in  the  act  of  throwing  away 
his  cup.  He  thus  denies  himself  this  artificial  aid 
to  drinking  because  he  has  been  impressed  by  watch- 
ing a  youth  dip  his  hand  into  a  stream  and  drink 


XTbe  Stan3a  of  iflora  355 

from  it.  Ruskin  says  of  this  picture  that  it  is 
"  rendered  valueless  by  coarseness  of  feeling  and 
non-reference  to  nature." 

There  are  four  quaint  portraits  in  this  room,  by 
Douwen,  of  the  Princess  Maria  Anne  Louisa  de 
Medici,  the  last  of  her  illustrious  family.  After 
the  death  of  her  only  brother,  she  lived  still  at  the 
Pitti  Palace  in  great  isolation  and  state.  She  was 
married  to  Prince  John  William,  the  Elector  Pala- 
tine, who  resembled  the  Medici  in  his  tastes,  and 
was  in  every  way  fitted  to  adorn  this  position.  But 
the  lady  was  of  a  suspicious  temperament,  possibly 
not  without  cause,  and  she  used  to  follow  him  about, 
veiled,  so  that  in  this  way  his  petty  gallantries  be- 
came known  to  her,  and  the  marriage  did  not  prove 
to  be  a  happy  one.  When  he  died,  she  reigned 
supreme  in  the  Pitti.  She  never  went  out  except 
to  church,  or  at  night,  when  she  was  always  escorted 
by  guards  and  drawn  by  eight  horses.  Her  death 
occurred  in  1743.  She  was  buried  with  regal  mag- 
nificence, and  left  a  will  of  some  generosity  to  her 
distant  relatives,  bequeathing  to  one  a  string  of 
pearls  valued  at  sixty  thousand  crowns ;  and  to  the 
King  of  Spain  a  jewel  worth  one  hundred  thousand 
crowns.  She  had  collected  many  valuable  art  treas- 
ures and  jewels  during  her  life.  The  furniture  of 
her  bedroom  was  described  after  her  death  as  being 
all    of    silver,    tables,    chairs,    stools,    and    screens,. 


3S6        XTbe  Hrt  of  tbe  pttti  palace 

"  more  rich  and  singular  and  extraordinary  than 
handsome/'  as  an  old  author  expresses  it. 

Of  the  four  portraits  of  this  eccentric  lady,  one 
represents  her  standing,  extending  her  hand  for  a 
little  dog  to  jump  over  it;  in  the  other  she  is  in 
the  full  regalia  of  a  huntress.  The  first  shows  Anna 
Maria  to  have  been  slight  of  figure,  which  fact  she 
emphasized  by  dressing  very  tightly.  Her  head- 
dress is  high  and  ornamented  with  pearls.  Her 
dress  is  cut  with  high  neck  and  long  sleeves,  and  is 
elaborately  trimmed  with  bands  of  rich  embroidery ; 
she  wears  a  small  ruff  and  a  short  cape.  There  is 
a  hall  window  in  the  background  at  the  right,  and 
at  the  left  a  curtain  is  draped.  In  the  second  por- 
trait Anna  Maria's  tight-strapped  costume  is  car- 
ried out  in  quite  a  military  manner.  She  is  stand- 
ing out-of-doors,  and  is  holding  a  gun  in  one  hand, 
while  the  other  hand  is  resting  on  the  neck  of  a 
favourite  dog.  Her  hair  hangs  free  over  her  shoul- 
ders, and  she  wears  a  three-cornered  hat  with 
plumes.  Both  these  portraits  are  very  jaunty.  In 
Number  471  the  redoubtable  Anna  Maria  de  Medici 
is  displaying  her  art  as  a  cook.  She  wears  a  point 
lace  apron;  and  the  achievements  of  her  genius,  in 
the  shape  of  strange  pasties  and  moulded  figures, 
are  seen  on  a  table  near.  Again  she  appears,  in 
Number  478,  with  her  husband,  the  Elector  Pala- 
tine.    They  stand  in  a  hall  at  the  end  of  which  is 


Zbc  Stan3a  of  iFlora  357 

spread  a  vast  table,  covered  with  pastry  swans  and 
such  moulds  as  Anna  Maria  has  already  been  rep- 
resented as  composing.  The  costumes  of  both  are 
elaborate  and  dressy  in  the  extreme  of  the  fashion 
of  a  flamboyant  age.  The  lady  is  pointing  to  a 
wine-pot,  or  some  large  piece  of  bric-a-brac  which 
stands  on  the  floor  at  the  right. 

Retracing  our  steps  to  the  Hall  of  Prometheus, 
we  turn  to  the  left  and  enter  the  little  long  Gal- 
leria  Poccetti,  named  after  the  artist  who  decorated 
its  ceiling. 

The  bust  of  Napoleon,  by  Canova,  is  here.  There 
are  interesting  accounts  given  of  the  sittings  with 
which  Napoleon  favoured  the  sculptor;  their  con- 
versations must  have  been  quite  edifying.  The 
bust  was  modelled  from  life  in  1802,  Canova  visit- 
ing Paris  for  the  purpose.  Napoleon  tried  his  best 
to  inveigle  Canova  into  remaining  in  France,  and 
lending  his  genius  to  the  glorification  of  his  new 
empire;  but  the  sculptor  was  true  to  his  native 
country,  and  he  returned  to  Italy  in  due  season. 
In  speaking  of  the  French,  Canova  used  to  say, 
"  They  are  not  inspired  with  genuine  love  of  art ;  it 
is  merely  a  love  of  display."  In  those  days  this  was 
probably  true  of  the  French  nation.  One  of  the 
conversations  quoted  by  Canova's  stepbrother,  who 
took  notes  on  the  interviews  between  Napoleon  and 
the  sculptor,  is  worth  repeating.     Canova  showed 


3^0         Zbc  Hrt  of  tbe  KMttt  palace 

Guercino's  St.  Sebastian  is  bound  to  a  tree.  His 
hand,  being  tied  to  one  of  the  upper  hmbs,  gives  his 
figure  a  picturesque  attitude.  The  face  is  upturned, 
and  he  is  as  well  filled  with  arrows  as  the  most 
enthusiastic  persecutor  could  demand.  In  the  sky 
is  an  angel  ministering  to  him,  —  one  of  those 
Cupid-pseudo  angels  which  annoy  Ruskin. 

Padre  Pietro  Pinamonte,  a  Jesuit  confessor  of 
Cosimo  III.,  here  appears.  Number  496,  painted 
true  to  the  life  by  another  Jesuit  like  himself.  Padre 
Andrea  Pozzo.  This  painter  was  a  clever  brother 
who  painted  both  in  oil  and  fresco;  much  of  his 
work  was  accomplished  in  Turin.  He  lived  from 
1642  to  1709. 

In  summing  up  the  characteristics  of  Italian  art, 
Schlegel,  in  his  "^Esthetic  Essays,"  says :  "  Italian 
painting  may,  like  its  poetry,  be  classed  in  two  dis- 
tinct divisions,  the  old  and  the  new.  If  the  simple 
grandeur  of  Giotto,  the  masculine  and  wondrous 
conceptions  of  Mantegna,  remind  us  of  Dante,  the 
beauty  of  Perugino  may  no  less  aptly  be  compared 
with  Petrarch,  while  Titian  and  Correggio  seem 
alike  representatives  of  Tasso  and  Ariosto.  I  have 
not  cited  these  resemblances  between  the  followers 
of  the  sister  arts  simply  as  an  exercise  of  ingenuity, 
but  rather  to  illustrate  the  one  simple  yet  important 
principle  that  nature  in  similar  spheres  observes  the 
same  order  of  productions,  and  that  the  same  stages 


tlbe  Stan3a  ot  iflora  361 

of  progress  are  apparent  to  all.  The  parallel  be- 
tween Italian  poets  and  painters  may  be  carried 
still  farther,  —  the  pithy  sweetness  of  Domenichino 
assimilates  completely  with  the  poetic  manner  of 
Guarini,  and  the  sweet  inspiration  of  Marini  finds 
a  corresponding  analogy  in  the  capricious  Albano." 


CHAPTER   XIII. 

THE  ROYAL  APARTMENTS  AND  THE  BOBOLI  GARDENS 

The  remaining  attractions  of  the  Pitti  Palace 
are  the  royal  apartments  and  the  Boboli  Gardens. 

On  the  right  of  the  entrance  by  the  portico  is 
the  great  hall.  The  hall  was  decorated  in  1633  by 
Giovanni  Mannozzi  (known  by  the  name  of  Gio- 
vanni da  san  Giovanni),  who  was  considered  one 
of  the  best  fresco  painters  in  Italy.  In  the  vault 
are  scenes  of  allegorical  significance,  apropos  of 
the  nuptials  of  the  prince;  on  the  walls  are  pre- 
sented the  most  memorable  acts  in  the  life  of  Lo- 
renzo the  Magnificent.  Here  may  be  seen  the  four 
seasons,  simulated  in  gold;  the  months  painted  as 
marble  figures;  other  figures  are  holding  laurel 
wreaths  and  festoons  in  bronze.  On  the  correspond- 
ing sides  are  represented  allegorical  figures  of  Day 
and  Night.  The  angles  of  the  vault  are  ornamented 
with  laurels,  palms,  and  helmets,  shields,  and  other 
devices  which  are  intended  to  recall  the  deeds  and 
achievements  of  the  Medici.     One  would   expect 

362 


Zbc  H^o^al  Hpartments  363 

to  see  a  few  dripping  stilettos  and  poison  vials  in- 
troduced into  the  design ;  but  these,  from  a  deHcate 
sense  of  tact,  have  been  omitted. 

Among  the  allegorical  subjects  in  this  compre- 
hensive fresco  are  Love  Leading  a  Lion,  the  Flor- 
entines doing  homage  to  Mars  in  the  person  of 
Ferdinand  IL ;  Flora  and  the  Nymphs  of  the  Arno, 
who  are  bestowing  upon  her  a  cart-load  of  garden 
produce;  Flora  being  admired  by  the  god  Pan;  a 
chestnut-tree,  which  is  said  to  symbolize  the  House 
of  Rovere,  placed  on  the  throne  of  Venus;  Time 
destroying  a  neat  library  of  books  which  are  being 
offered  to  him  by  a  group  of  satyrs ;  further  satyrs, 
bearing  lighted  torches,  climbing  up  to  Parnassus. 
A  female  satyr,  which  is  an  original  but  thoroughly 
displeasing  idea,  holds  aloft  the  crown  of  victory. 
Alexander  the  Great  and  Mahomet  are  both  intro- 
duced into  this  exotic  composition,  apparently  for 
the  express  purpose  of  demonstrating  the  superior- 
ity of  the  Medici  to  all  their  forerunners  in  history. 
The  Muses  are  put  to  flight ;  poets  are  chased  over 
precipices  by  satyrs ;  troupes  of  philosophers  scurry 
away  to  seek  refuge  under  the  gracious  patronage 
of  Lorenzo.  Aristotle,  Homer,  Sappho,  and  Dante, 
all  pray  for  admission.  Pegasus  is  the  centre  of 
attraction  in  one  group;  in  another  Pallas  is  seen 
introducing  Virtue  to  Tuscany  in  her  best  society 
manner. 


364         XTbe  Hrt  of  tbe  BMttt  palace 

On  another  wall,  painted  by  Cecco  Bravo,  one 
may  see  Lorenzo  in  the  red  robe  of  Gonfalonier; 
he  welcomes  Apollo  and  the  Muses  by  cordially  ex- 
tending his  hand  to  them.  In  another  place  Pru- 
dence and  Lorenzo  are  indulging  in  a  discussion  on 
ways  and  means  in  government.  Evidently  Pru- 
dence forbore  to  thwart  Lorenzo's  will. 

Octave  Vanni  (Vannino)  has  also  contributed  his 
share  to  the  decoration  of  the  hall.  Flora  and  Pru- 
dence conduct  the  infant  Genius,  while  the  other 
"  infant  industries "  are  grouped  about.  A  real 
scene  without  symbolic  meaning  follows  this :  Lo- 
renzo receiving  from  the  hands  of  the  boy  Michel- 
angelo the  satyr's  mask,  which  he  had  so  cleverly 
modelled,  and,  as  every  reader  knows,  from  whose 
mouth  he  had  knocked  a  tooth,  to  give  the  expres- 
sion of  age.  In  another  compartment  Faith  is  seen 
doing  her  duty  by  pointing  Lorenzo  to  heaven; 
an  attendant  angel  stands  by  with  the  Scriptures 
for  his  consultation.  Little  angels  float  about  in 
the  air,  holding  an  inscription  indicative  of  the 
Christian  virtues  of  Lorenzo,  and  their  effects  upon 
later  generations. 

On  the  fourth  side  of  the  hall  the  paintings  are 
by  Francesco  Furini;  these  depict  the  famous 
Platonic  Academy,  founded  by  Lorenzo  at  Caraggi ; 
Marsile  Ficino  and  Pico  della  Mirandola  and  Poli- 
tian  here  disport  themselves.    The  statue  of  Plato 


XEbe  IRo^al  Hpartmcnts  365 

occupies  the  altar,  at  base  of  which  Philosophy  is 
seated,  surrounded  by  books.  The  series  is  con- 
cluded by  the  death  of  the  Magnificent.  In  the 
Elysian  fields,  on  the  shores  of  the  Lethe,  appears 
a  swan,  holding  in  his  beak  a  medal  with  the  effigy 
of  Lorenzo,  emblematical  of  his  being  saved  from 
the  waters  of  oblivion.  Mars  prepares  to  devastate 
the  earth  once  more,  to  the  manifest  discomfort  of 
Peace. 

There  are  many  interesting  pictures  in  the  royal 
apartments:  a  Madonna,  by  Carlo  Dolci,  one  of 
his  best  works;  a  charming  round  Botticelli,  the 
Madonna  of  the  Roses,  but  the  chief  art  possession 
is  the  great  picture  by  Botticelli  of  Pallas  and  the 
Centaur. 

The  painting,  Pallas  and  the  Centaur,  is  one  of 
the  most  interesting  pictures  in  Italy  at  present. 
It  has  long  hung  in  the  Pitti  Palace  under  the  name 
of  An  Allegory;  and  Frassinetti  engraved  it  in 
1842  in  an  illustrated  work  upon  the  Pitti  Palace, 
when  it  was  alluded  to  as  an  "  eccentric  composi- 
tion," relating  in  some  vague  way  to  Lorenzo  il 
Magnifico.  Then,  for  some  mysterious  reason,  the 
picture  disappeared,  and,  whereas  up  to  this  time 
four  of  Botticelli's  pictures  had  always  been  ac- 
credited to  the  Pitti,  after  1856  only  three  were 
reported.  The  Pallas  was  stored  away  among  sev- 
eral unimportant  pictures  when  the  Archduke  Ferdi- 


366         ube  Hrt  ot  tbe  ipitti  palace 

nand  of  Lorraine  was  married,  for  at  that  time 
certain  changes  were  inaugurated  in  the  gallery. 

In  1 86 1  "  all  pictures  belonging  to  the  Palatine  " 
were  demanded  by  the  director  of  the  Pitti,  as  hav- 
ing accrued  to  the  state;  and  in  some  way  the 
Pallas  was  overlooked  in  this  transaction,  and  re- 
mained hanging  in  a  dark,  high  corner  of  a  small 
apartment  on  the  second  floor,  where  it  escaped 
notice.  Mr.  Spence,  a  noted  artist,  collector,  and 
critic,  was  visiting  the  Duke  d'Aosta  at  the  Pitti 
a  few  years  ago,  and,  as  he  passed  through  a  room, 
known  as  the  Volterrano  apartment,  he  observed 
the  great  picture  hanging  there,  and  at  once  ex- 
claimed that  it  must  be  a  Botticelli.  He  called  the 
Marchese  Enrico  Ridolfi  into  consultation,  and, 
after  a  minute  examination,  they  decided  that  it 
was  unquestionably  the  lost  Botticelli. 

The  picture  is  a  very  beautiful  composition,  and 
the  colouring,  although  the  vehicle  is  tempera,  is 
as  deep  and  rich  as  an  oil  painting.  The  exquisitely 
decorative  shade  of  the  blue  in  the  sky  is  especially 
noteworthy.  Pallas  is  represented  as  a  young 
woman,  with  a  more  regular  type  of  beauty  than 
that  often  chosen  by  this  artist,  and  the  fluttering 
of  her  light  draperies  suggest  that  she  has  just 
alighted  upon  the  earth.  Her  type  is  rather  intel- 
lectual, although  of  a  cheerful  sort,  by  no  means 
as  severe  as  the  classic  ideal  of  Minerva.    She  car- 


PALLAS    AND    THE    CENTAUR 


By  Botticelli ;  in  the  Royal  Apartments 

...M>xUVME^^   \ 


^\  m-v 


Zbc  IRo^al  Hpartments  367 

ries  a  halberd  in  a  disinterested  way,  and  a  shield 
is  slung  on  her  back,  but  the  only  warlike  suggestion 
about  her  is  the  firm  clutch  with  which  she  seizes 
the  hair  of  the  centaur.  Intellectual  triumph  — 
calm  and  peaceful  —  over  brute  force  is  evidently 
the  intention  of  the  painting.  Authorities  claim 
that  it  was  painted  to  symbolize  the  securing  of 
peace  between  the  Pope  and  Florence  by  a  triple 
alliance  in  1480,  when  Lorenzo  de  Medici  visited 
the  king  at  Naples  and  made  this  agreement  pos- 
sible. 

The  dress  of  Pallas  is  most  exquisite  in  its  ethe- 
real quality,  clinging  tenderly  to  her  body,  and 
bound  the  closer  on  the  arms  and  breast  by  slim, 
twining  olive-branches.  The  device  of  Lorenzo, 
linked  rings  in  groups  of  threes  and  fours,  are  dis- 
posed at  intervals  in  the  texture  of  the  gossamer 
fabric.  A  rich  green  mantle  falls  gracefully  about 
her,  and  her  blonde  hair  is  hanging  free. 

Whether  she  stands  simply  as  Minerva,  subduing 
evil,  or  whether  she  is  a  more  complex  goddess, 
embodying  also  purity  and  artistic  symbolism,  she 
is  most  lovely. 

The  centaur,  equally  well  handled,  but  not  an 
attractive  subject,  is  in  an  attitude  of  cringing  sub- 
jection. He  evidently  acknowledges  his  inferiority, 
his  incapacity  to  defend  himself,  and  his  bow  is 
not  raised  for  action. 


368         Ube  Hrt  ot  tbe  pitti  palace 

The  background  is  very  delightful :  a  bit  of  low- 
tide  shore,  with  a  graceful  little  boat  at  anchor; 
while  in  the  middle  distance,  or  almost  in  the  fore- 
ground on  the  left,  there  is  a  tall  ledge  of  striated 
rocks,  which  looks  almost  like  the  ruin  of  a  build- 
ing. The  rocks  meet  the  ground  very  squarely, 
almost  like  a  planned  wall. 

The  unassuming,  quiet  firmness  of  this  figure  of 
Pallas  is  typical  of  Sandro's  own  nature.  Vasari 
tells  an  amusing  anecdote,  which  illustrates  Botti- 
celli's convincing  and  yet  simple  manner  of  defend- 
ing himself  when  he  was  imposed  upon.  A  cloth 
weaver  set  up  eight  looms  in  the  house  next  to  his 
own  in  Florence.  The  jarring  and  noise  produced 
by  all  these  machines  rendered  Sandro's  house  al- 
most uninhabitable.  He  requested  an  abatement  of 
this  nuisance,  and  received  no  answer  except  that 
the  weaver  intended  to  do  as  he  liked  in  his  own 
house.  So  the  wily  Botticelli  obtained  an  enormous 
stone,  —  a  monolith  which  was  reported  to  fill  an 
entire  cart,  —  and  had  it  so  balanced  upon  the  wall 
of  his  own  dwelling,  which  was  higher  than  the 
weaver's  house,  that  any  jarring  or  disturbance 
would  be  liable  to  bring  it  down  with  a  crash 
through  his  neighbour's  roof.  The  weaver,  of 
course,  protested  at  such  an  outrage;  Botticelli  re- 
plied that  he  also  intended  to  do  as  he  liked  in  his 


Zbc  IRoi^al  Hpartment0  369 

own  house.  The  result  was  satisfactory.  Verily 
he  had  his  fingers  in  the  centaur's  hair. 

Who  can  entirely  disassociate  the  Pitti  Palace 
from  the  Boboli  Gardens  ?  Those  shady,  overgrown 
walks,  once  so  trim  and  formal,  now  a  mass  of 
"  tangled  vastness,"  as  Mr.  Ho  wells  ingeniously 
calls  them.  We  must  not  leave  the  palace  without 
taking  a  peep  into  the  gardens. 

One  approaches  the  Boboli  Gardens  through  the 
court  in  the  middle  of  the  palace.  There  used  to 
be,  on  the  Boboli  Hill,  quarries,  from  which  stones 
were  taken  to  pave  the  city,  and  these  quarries  were 
again  exploited  in  building  the  Pitti  Palace.  That 
was  probably  one  reason  why  it  was  within  the 
limits  of  possibility  to  employ  such  huge  stones  and 
so  many  of  them.  The  plan  for  the  gardens  was 
made  by  Tribolo  in  1550,  and  at  his  death,  in  the 
following  August,  the  work  was  carried  forward 
by  Buontalenti. 

Many  statues  adorn  the  gardens  at  all  points. 
One  is  the  fountain  sometimes  called  the  "  little 
Bacchus,"  because  the  figure  is  diminutive  and 
squat;  he  is  mounted  on  a  turtle,  and  the  water 
comes  from  the  mouth  of  the  reptile.  In  reality, 
it  is  said  that  this  fountain  is  a  portrait,  or  rather 
a  caricature,  of  Pierre  Barbino,  a  man  distinguished 
in  the  court  of  Cosimo  I.  for  his  gallantries  and  his 
dilettantism.    The  statue  is  by  Valere  de  Settignano. 


370       Ube  Hrt  of  tbe  pitti  palace 

Cosimo  called  this  statue  "  Margutte."  This  fact 
is  not  generally  known,  however,  and  the  figure  is 
so  well  known  as  the  "  little  Bacchus "  that  the 
entrance  is  named  for  it,  and  is  called  the  Bacchino. 

On  a  plateau  is  a  small  meadow,  which  was  used 
as  a  football  ground  in  the  time  of  the  Medici  and 
Duke  Leopold;  during  the  time  of  Marie  Louise 
of  Etruria,  this  was  the  riding-ground  for  the  court. 

There  are  many  delightful  little  groves  and  long, 
picturesque  walks ;  as  Mr.  Piatt  calls  them,  "  inter- 
minable avenues  in  relentless  straight  lines,"  which 
"  climb  one  hill  after  another." 

A  famous  grotto  may  be  seen  here,  built  in  part 
by  Giorgio  Vasari,  and  it  has,  in  niches,  two  statues 
of  Apollo  and  Ceres  by  Baccio  Bandinelli.  The 
latter  was  originally  intended  for  an  Eve,  and,  with 
an  attendant  Adam,  was  to  have  been  placed  behind 
the  altar  of  the  cathedral;  but  the  artist  changed 
his  plans  and  made  it  into  a  Ceres,  to  which  he 
added  an  Apollo,  and  presented  them  to  Eleonora, 
the  first  owner  of  the  Boboli  Gardens.  The  rest 
of  this  bizarre  edifice  was  constructed  at  the  insti- 
gation of  Cosimo  L,  by  Buontalenti,  in  order  to 
accommodate  four  unfinished  statues  by  Michel- 
angelo, commonly  known  as  the  Prisoners;  they 
were  to  have  been  a  part  of  the  tomb  of  Julius  IL, 
but,  in  their  unfinished  condition,  they  were  given 
to    Cosimo   by   Leonardo   Buonarotti,    nephew   to 


Ube  IRoi^al  Hpartments  371 

Michelangelo,  and  his  executor.  The  grotto  is 
built  in  a  curious  way  of  those  petrified  shells,  com- 
monly called  sponges,  which  abound  on  the  Tuscan 
hills.  The  unfinished  statues  are  in  the  angles. 
The  artist  also  has  covered  the  grotto  with  strange 
human  and  animal  shapes,  cut  in  this  calcareous  ma- 
terial ;  he  also  intended  to  introduce  a  crystal  basin, 
in  which  fishes  were  to  appear  to  be  floating  in  the 
air ;  but  it  was  not  practicable  and  had  to  be  aban- 
doned. In  the  reign  of  Francesco  I.,  Poccetti  orna- 
mented the  vault  and  side  walls  with  designs  cor- 
responding to  Buontalenti's  plan,  representing  divers 
animals  and  reptiles  creeping  out  of  crevices,  and 
even  figures  of  peasants,  evidently  alarmed  at  the  im- 
minence of  the  destruction  of  the  grotto,  which  was 
supposed  to  look  as  if  it  were  in  a  state  of  collapse. 

Opposite  the  grotto  is  a  basin  of  marble,  which 
Cosimo  III.  had  placed  there  on  his  return  from 
Rome  in  1696. 

High  to  the  right  is  the  little  Garden  delle  Cav- 
aliere,  built  by  Cardinal  Leopold  over  the  bastion 
which  was  erected  by  Michelangelo  to  defend  the 
town  in  1529.  In  this  stands  the  small  casino  which 
Cosimo  III.  built  as  a  studio  for  his  son,  Gian 
Gaston,  who  was  a  cultivated  man  interested  in 
sciences  and  languages.  From  this  point  there  is 
a  beautiful  view  over  the  city. 

One  of  the  great  charms  of  the  gardens  is  the 


372        XTbe  Hrt  of  tbe  pittt  palace 

amphitheatre,  where  many  festivities  have  been  held 
by  members  of  the  Medici  family  while  they  were 
in  power.  This  amphitheatre  is  well  adapted  to  the 
form  of  the  hillside,  and  seems  to  be  entirely  nat- 
ural in  its  occurrence  at  this  point.  It  is,  in  shape, 
a  long  oval.  Here  may  be  seen  an  Egyptian  obelisk 
well  preserved. 

A  balustrade  surrounds  this  theatre,  set  with 
niches  at  intervals,  containing  vases  and  statues; 
and  it  is  near  the  palace,  which  proximity  made  it 
very  easy  to  adjourn  to  when  entertainments  were 
given  there.  Among  the  gala  days  in  the  amphi- 
theatre were  a  grand  spectacle  in  honour  of  the 
marriage  of  Anne  de  Medici  with  Archduke  Ferdi- 
nand of  Austria  in  1652;  again,  in  1 661,  no  expense 
was  spared  in  a  royal  entertainment  when  Cosimo 
III.  married  Marguerite  Louise  d'Orleans;  and  in 
1739  the  arrival  of  Frangois  of  Lorraine  and  Marie 
of  Austria  was  celebrated  by  a  superb  assembly  in 
the  amphitheatre.  When  the  King  of  Naples,  Ferdi- 
nand IV.,  and  his  wife,  Marie  Caroline,  came  to  the 
Pitti,  in  1785,  the  festivities  were  held  here;  and 
in  1787,  on  the  occasion  of  the  nuptials  of  Arch- 
duchess Marie  Therese  and  Prince  Antoine  de  Saxe, 
there  was  also  a  notable  entertainment.  Then,  on 
the  birth  of  the  son  of  Napoleon  Buonaparte,  in 
18 1 1,  the  amphitheatre  was  used  again  to  celebrate 
the  good  news. 


\0M^ 


i?MT    »»7 


Ube  IRo^al  Hpartments  373 

The  Pitti  Palace,  to  compare  small  thing's  with 
greater,  overlooks  this  amphitheatre  in  somewhat 
the  same  way  that  the  Palace  of  the  Caesars  in 
Rome  overlooks  the  Circus  Maximus.  Stone 
benches  rise  one  above  another  in  the  auditorium, 
if  so  it  may  be  called.  It  is  surrounded  by  cypresses 
and  yews,  and  has  been  described  by  a  rather  imag- 
inative Italian  poet  as  the  ingenious  work  of  one 
of  the  nymphs  who  preside  over  woods  and  fields! 

Much  of  the  garden  is  in  a  fashion  of  luxury, 
—  shady  retreats  and  a  refuge  from  the  sun.  It  is 
cool,  green,  and  restful.  It  seems  to  romance  of  the 
long-forgotten  episodes  which  must  have  taken 
place  amidst  these  long-covered  walks,  high-walled 
grottoes,  and  splashing  waters.  A  covered  avenue, 
thickly  overgrown,  leads  for  a  long,  straight  dis- 
tance to  the  large  basin,  in  which  is  situated  a  tiny 
island  called  L'Isolotto.  Before  it  is  a  little  meadow 
or  bird-snare  (once  common  in  Florence),  called 
L'Uccellaja.  On  the  island,  which  is  planted  with 
flowers,  is  a  fountain,  with  a  colossal  statue  of 
Oceanus  or  Neptune.  In  the  centre  is  raised  a  rock 
carved  into  a  triumphal  chariot  for  the  sea-god. 
Jets  of  water  proceed  from  the  trident  which  Nep- 
tune carries,  and  also  from  various  other  points 
in  this  hydrostatic  novelty.  Cosimo  I.  had  this 
triumphal  car  copied  from  the  one  which  had  ap- 
peared in  the  great  procession  in  Florence  in  1565, 


374        Ube  Hrt  of  tbe  ptttt  B^alace 

on  the  occasion  of  the  "  mascarade  "  of  the  Gene- 
alogy of  the  Gods.  The  statue  of  Neptune  is  the 
work  of  Astoldo  Lorenzo  de  Settignano.  This  lake 
is  surrounded  by  artificial  hills  and  dales.  Mr. 
Piatt,  in  his  "  Italian  Gardens,"  speaks  of  the  "  cir- 
cular terraces  around  the  most  elevated  of  the 
ponds "  as  seeming  to  be  "  a  natural  formation, 
so  exactly  do  they  fit  in  with  their  surroundings." 

On  the  highest  point  in  the  garden  stands  the 
statue  of  Abundance,  and  thereby  hangs  a  tale. 
This  statue  was  a  portrait  of  Johanna  of  Austria, 
Grand  Duchess  of  Francis  I.  de  Medici.  It  was 
commenced  by  Giovanni  da  Bologna  to  be  placed 
in  the  Piazza  San  Marco.  But  Francesco,  who 
was  a  vacillating  gentleman,  became  enamoured  of 
Bianca  Capello,  and  lost  interest  in  the  statue  of 
his  rather  plain  wife;  so  he  countermanded  the 
order,  and  the  statue  remained  unfinished.  When, 
however,  under  Ferdinand  II.,  Tuscany  revelled  in 
plenty,  being  at  that  time  the  only  Italian  state  that 
was  not  indulging  in  famine  and  plague,  the  statue 
was  again  trotted  out  and  completed  as  Abundance, 
under  Giovanni's  pupil,  Tacca.  With  certain  deft 
changes  of  attributes,  this  was  made  possible,  and 
it  was  set  up  to  commemorate  a  season  of  great 
plenty,  and  to  celebrate  an  entirely  novel  glory  for 
the  Medici  —  Peace ! 

The  Belvedere,  without  which  no  formal  garden 


Zbc  IRoi^al  Hpartments  37s 

was  complete  in  those  days,  is  not  far  from  this, 
and  the  casino,  or  coffee-house,  for  refreshments, 
stands  on  a  slight  eminence.  It  was  built  in  1776, 
by  Zanobi  del  Rosso,  under  Leopold.  This  was  the 
favourite  retreat  of  Victor  Emanuele.  From  this 
elevation  the  view  all  around  the  city  is  extensive; 
and  galleries,  terraces,  and  a  lantern  make  this  view 
the  more  available.  There  is  quite  a  clever  stair- 
case in  this  little  building,  occupying  only  a  small, 
triangular  space.  At  the  foot  of  the  hill,  upon  which 
the  coffee-house  stands,  is  the  charming  little  Giardi- 
netto  Madama,  in  which  Jeanne  of  Austria  took 
much  interest,  so  that  it  was  called  after  her.  Deli- 
cious pineapples  were  grown  in  the  Boboli  Gardens 
in  the  days  of  Leopold,  who  was  very  fond  of  this 
fruit. 

Ho  wells  speaks  of  the  "  charming,  silly  grottoes, 
its  masses  of  ivy-covered  wall,  its  curtains  of  laurel 
hedge,  its  black  spires  of  cypress  and  domes  of 
pine,  its  weather-beaten  marbles,  its  sad,  unkempt 
lawns,  its  grotesque,  overgrown  fountain,  with 
those  sea-horses  so  much  too  big  for  its  lake,  its 
wandering  alleys  and  moss-grown  seats,  abounding 
in  talking  age  and  whispering  lovers." 

A  more  complete  word-picture  of  the  atmosphere 
of  the  Boboli  Gardens  it  would  be  impossible  to  find. 

THE   END. 


Btblfoovapbie 


Grant  Allen.  —  Historical  Guide  to  Florence. 

Anderson.  —  Renaissance  Architecture  in  Italy. 

Armstrong.  —  Lorenzo  de  Medici. 

Berenson.  —  Venetian  Painters  of  the  Renaissance. 

Browning.  —  Fra  Lippo  Lippi. 

Browning.  —  Andrea  del  Sarto. 

BuRCKHARDT.  —  Die  Ciccrone. 

G.  H.  Calvert.  —  Life  of  Rubens. 

Crowe  and  Cavalcaselle.  —  History  of  Painting  in  Italy. 

Crowe  and  Cavalcaselle.  —  Life  and  Times  of  Titian. 

H.  S.  Frieze.  —  Giovanni  Duprd. 

H.  Guinness.  —  Andrea  del  Sarto. 

G.  S.  Hilliard.  —  Six  Months  in  Italy. 

Horner.  —  Walks  in  Florence. 

James  Howell. —  Familiar  Letters. 

HowELLS.  —  Tuscan  Cities. 

Henry  James.  —  Portraits  of  Places. 

Jameson.  —  Legends  of  the  Monastic  Orders. 

Jameson.  —  Sacred  and  Legendary  Art. 

K.  Karoly.  —  Paintings  of  Florence. 

Lafenestre.  —  La  Peinture  in  Europe. 

LuiGi  Lanzi.  —  Painting  in  Italy. 

Longfellow.  —  Michael  Angelo. 

Machiavelli  —  History  of  Florence. 

Memes.  —  Life  of  Canova. 


378  3Bibltograpbi? 

Dr.  John  Moore.  —  Travels  in  Italy. 

Mark  Noble.  —  Memoirs  of  the  Medici  Family. 

A.  C.  Owen.  —  Art  Schools  of  Mediaeval  Christendom. 

J.  D.  Passavant.  —  Life  and  Works  of  Raphael. 

Walter  Pater.  —  Miscellaneous  Studies. 

Walter  Pater.  —  The  Renaissance. 

F.  T.  Perrens History  of  Florence. 

Count  Plunkett.  —  Botticelli. 
RiccL  —  Guida  Delia  Palazzo  Pitti. 

G.  B.  Rose.  —  Renaissance  Masters. 
RusKiN.  —  Modern  Painters. 
Ruskin.  —  Stones  of  Venice. 
Schlegel.  —  ^Esthetic  Essays. 
Leader  Scott.  —  Brunelleschi. 

Leader  Scott.  —  The  Renaissance  in  Italy. 
SiSMONDi.  —  History  of  Europe. 

F.  P.  Stearns.  —  Life  and  Genius  of  Tintoretto. 
W.  J.  Stillman Italian  Old  Masters. 

M.  F.  Sweetser.  —  Life  of  Guido  Reni. 

J.  A.  Symonds.  —  The  Renaissance  in  Italy. 

Taine.  —  Voyage  en  Italie. 

Theophilus.  —  The  Arts  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

T.  A.  Trollope.  —  Commonwealths  of  Florence. 

Giorgio  Vasari.  —  Lives  of  the  Painters. 

Williamson Fra  Angelico. 

G.  C.  Williamson  —  Life  of  Perugino. 
Woltmann  and  Woermann.  —  History  of  Painting. 


Unbcx 


Abbott  (Lyman),  167. 

"  Abundance,"  374. 

Academy,  44,  292,  294,  364. 

Adam  and  Eve,  Campagnola, 
201;  Durer,  57;  Furini,  346; 
Migna,  278;  Tiarini,  358. 

Addison,  Joseph,  30. 

Aelst  (Von),  353. 

Ages  of  Gold,  Silver,  Iron,  and 
Brass,  by  Cortona,  290. 

Albano,  361. 

Albertinelli,  238. 

Alexander  VII.,  331. 

"Alice  in  Wonderland,"  316. 

Allegorical  Subject,  267,  347. 

Allegri.    See  Correggio. 

Allen,  Grant,  209. 

AUori,  Christofano,  Judith  and 
Holofernes,  8,  115;  21;  St 
Julian,  57,  91 ;  Sacrifice  of 
Abraham,  126;  St.  John  in 
the  Desert,  317;  Preaching  of 
the  Baptist,  315;  Jesus  Crown- 
ing Mary,  351. 

Alphonse  II.,  310. 

Alphonse  d'Este,  44. 

Altissimo,  Christoforo,  Portrait 
of  Clarice  Altovito,  by,  319. 

Altoviti,  Bindo,  114. 

Altovito,  Clarice,  319. 

Alva,  229. 

Ammanati,  23,  24,  28. 

Amphitheatre  in  Boboli  Gardens, 
372. 


Angelico,  Fra,  i,  2,  4,  7,  86,  105, 

163,  180;  Sketch  of  His  Life, 

246;  251. 
Angelo    Doni,    Portrait    of,    by 

Raphael,   69. 
Angel's  Head,  Correggio,  191. 
Annunciation,    by    Andrea     del 

Sarto,  126,  152  (No.  124),  200. 
Annuncio,  D',  Gabriel,  210,  255. 
Antwerp,  102,  103,  107. 
Apelles,  6,  347. 
Apollo,  Hall  of,  39,  68-99. 
Apollo  and  Marsyas,  Biliverti,  62. 
Apollo   and   Marsyas,  Guercino, 

61. 
Apollo    and    the    Muses,   Giulio 

Romano,  201. 
Aretino,  Pietro,  by  Titian,  78. 
Arezzo,  78. 

Argentino,  Bishop,  89. 
Ariosto,  360. 
Armada,  Spanish,  229. 
Assumption,  by  Lanfranco,  243. 
Assumption    of    the    Virgin,    by 

Del    Sarto    (No.    191),    215; 

(No.  225),  216. 
Augustus  and  the  Sibyl,  by  Paris 

Bordone,  307. 
Augustus    and    the     Sibyl,    by 

Garofolo,  153. 

Bacchanale,  by  Rubens,  158. 
Bacchanale,  by  Titian,  205. 
Bacchus,  by  Guido  Reni,  94. 


379 


38o 


irnt)ex 


"  Bacchino,"  370. 
Bakhuisen,  Ludolf,  354. 
Baldacchino,  Madonna  of  the,  by 

Raphael,  172. 
Baldas3are,  Count,  168. 
Baldinucci,  151. 
Balia,  11,  12,  15,  17. 
"  Bambocciata,"  by  Dossi,  194. 
Bandinelli,  Baccio,  370. 
Baptism  of  Christ,  by  Veronese, 

221. 
Barbaro,  Daniel,  by  Veronese,  238. 
Barbino,  Pierre,  369. 
Barbizzi,  299. 
Baroccio,  Portrait  of  Federigo  of 

Urbino  by,  98;  147. 
Bartolini,  295. 
Bartolommeo,  Fra,  Pieta,  by,  84 ; 

85-87,  97;  St.  Marc,  by,  154; 

173;   Virgin    Enthroned,    237; 

piisen  Christ,  by,   199;   Isaiah 

and  Job,  199. 
Bassano,   8;    St.   Catherine,  by, 

63;    Christ   in   the   House   of 

Mary  and    Martha,    by,    244; 

245,  287. 
Bath-room,  312. 
Bazzi.    See  Sodoma. 
Bella,  La,  by  Titian,  55,  iii. 
Belle    Simonetta,    by    Botticelli, 

267. 
Bellini,  58,  193,  270,  304. 
Benson,  160. 
Bentivoglio,    Cardinal,    by    Van 

Dyck,  122;  177. 
Bentivoglio,      Constanza,      241 ; 

Giov.  II.,  by  Costa,  287. 
Bibiena,   Cardinal,    by   Raphael, 

175- 
Biliverti,    62;     Tobias    and    the 

Angel,  by,  9;  218;  Apollo  and 

Marsyas,  62,  316. 
Birth  of  a  Noble  Infant,  by  Scar- 

cellino,  328. 
Blanc,  Charles,  197. 
Boboli  Gardens,  19,  27,  362,  369- 

^375- 

Boccaccmo,     Boccaccio,     Zinga- 
rella,  by,  304. 


Bologna,  Giovanni  da,  35,  374. 
Bonaventure,  Pietro,  35,  232,  233. 
Bonifazio,  57,  123,  200. 
Bordone,  Paris,  Repose  in  Egypt, 

by,  125,  224;  Portrait  of  Paul 

v.,  by,  320;  Augustus  and  the 

Sibyl,  307. 
Borghese  Gallery,  241. 
Both,  Jan,  332. 
Botta,  40. 
Botti,  Matteo,  298. 
Botticelli,  i,  2,  69,  257  ;   Sketch 

of,     259-267;      Tondo,      259; 

Compared  with  Raphael,  264; 

Madonna  of  the  Rose-Bush,  l>y, 

266 ;  Belle  Simonetta,  by,  267  ; 

Pallas    and    Centaur,  by,  365; 

Madonna   of    the    Roses,    by, 

365- 
Bourgognono.    See  Courtois. 
Brandt,  Isabella,  102. 
Bril,  Paul,  352. 
Bronzino,    gi  ;    Bianca    Capello, 

by,   233;   Cosimo  I.,  by,  226; 

Francesco    I.    de    Medici,   by, 

231 ;  Lucrezia  of  Ferrara,  310; 

Cosimo  I.,  by,  329. 
Browning,  Elizabeth  B.,  42,  43. 
Browning,    Robert,    2,    49,    139, 

151;    Andrea  del   Sarto,   149; 

Abt    Vogler,    207,    250;    Fra 

Lippo,  254,  255;  250,  252. 
Brunelleschi,  18,  20,  21,  26,  30. 
Buonarotti,  Leonardo,  370. 
Buontalenti,  369,  371. 
Burckhardt,  47  ;  Catiline,  144. 
Bushnell,  Horace,  8. 
Buti,  Lucrezia,  253,  256. 
Byron,  "  Cain  "  quoted,  295. 
Byzantine  Guide  to  Painting,  6, 

248. 

Cadore,  53. 

Cagnacci,    Assumption    of    the 

Magdalen,  by,  120. 
Cain  and  Abel,  by  Dupr^,  292- 

296;  by  Schiavone,  196. 
"  Calumny,"  by  Franciabigio,  347. 
Calvart,  St.  Jerome,  by,  345. 


fn&ei 


381 


Cambassi,  318. 

Cambi,  15. 

Campagnola,  Adam  and  Eve,  by, 
201. 

Canova,  Antonio,  41,  294,  333; 
Venus,  by,  336-338;  Napo- 
leon, by,  357. 

Canova,  Pietro,  333. 

Capello,    Bianca,    35,    232,    333, 

374- 
Caracci,     Annibale,     4,     9,     50; 

Christ    Enthroned,    by,     212; 

214;  Landscape,  by,  319. 
Caravaggio,  Sleeping   Love,   by, 

III,  221. 
Carpaccio,  210. 

Carpi,  Girolamo,  Christ  in  Gar- 
den, by,  89,  289. 
Castagno,  Andrea,  281. 
Castelfranco,  192. 
Castiglione,  Balthazar,  176. 
Cattani,  269,  296. 
Cellini,  Benvenuto,  33. 
Cennini,     Cennino,     "  Treatise," 

262. 
Cerretani,  219. 
Champaigne,  P.  de,  155. 
Charity,  by  Guido  Reni,  227. 
Charles  L  and  Henrietta  Maria, 

by  Van  Dyck,  195;  331. 
Charles  II.,  331,  340. 
Charles   V.,   80,    121,    226,    230, 

304>  321. 

Christ,  Head  of,  by  Titian,  231. 

Christ  and  His  Mother,  by  Ver- 
onese, 133. 

Christ  and  Peter,  by  Cigoli,  67. 

Christ  Enthroned,  by  Caracci, 
212. 

Christ  in  the  Garden,  by  Carpi, 
289;  by  Dolci,  314. 

Christ  in  the  House  of  Mary  and 
Martha,  by  Bassano,  244. 

Cigoli,  67 ;  St.  Francis,  by,  94, 
III;  314;  Deposition,  by,  97; 
Ecce  Homo,  by,  iro;  Mag- 
dalen, by,  127;  219;  Madonna, 
348. 

Clement  VII.,  71,  122,  230. 


Cleopatra,  by  Reni,  296-299. 

Clouet,  Henry  II.,  by,  308. 

Clovio,  Don  Giulio,  Deposition, 
by,  301. 

Cole,  Timothy,  207. 

Cologne,  225. 

Conspiracy  of  Catiline,  by  Sal- 
vator  Rosa,  142. 

Conti,  Cosimo,  21,  26. 

Correggio  (Allegri),  191,  214, 
216,  320,  360. 

Corridor  of  Columns,  321. 

Corsini  Palace,  115. 

Corteccia,  44. 

Cortona,  Pietro  da,  38,  65 ;  Fres- 
coes, 290. 

Costa,  Lorenzo,  286. 

Courtois,  Jacques,  Battle,  by,  140. 

Credi,  Lorenzo  di,  Holy  Family, 
by,  278. 

Crespi,  155. 

Crivelli,  55. 

Cromwell,  Oliver,  by  Sir  Peter 
Lely,  331,  340. 

Crowe  and  Cavalcaselle,  on  Ti- 
tian's Bella,  56;  on  Leo  X., 
73  ;  on  Titian's  Magdalen,  82  ; 
on  Madonna  of  the  Chair,  166; 
on  Portrait  of  Cardinal  Bibi- 
ena,  176;  on  the  Disputa,  187; 
on  Ippolito  de  Medici,  230 ;  on 
Titian's  Christ,  231 ;  on  Al- 
bertinelli,  280;  on  the  Donna 
Velata,  297. 

Dante,  49,  137,  360. 

Death  of  the  Magdalen,  by  Rus- 
tic!, 66. 

Deposition,  by  Cigoli,  97 ;  by 
Clovio,  301  ;  by  Perugino,  180; 
by  Andrea  del  Sarto,  87 ;  by 
Tintoretto,  306. 

Descent  from  Cross.  See  Depo- 
sition. 

Diocletian,  204. 

Diogenes,  by  Rosa,  354. 

Disputa,  by  Del  Sarto,  186. 

Dolci,  Carlo,  i,  4;  St.  Peter,  126, 
197;    169;   St.  Andrew,    197; 


382 


fn^ex 


Christ  in  Garden,  197;  St. 
John  Asleep,  197;  222;  St. 
John  Evangelist,  239;  St.  Mar- 
garet, 242 ;  St.  Carlo  Borro- 
meo,  308 ;  309 ;  St.  Francis 
Xavier,  31 1  ;  St.  Niccolo  di 
Tolenta,  311;  Christ  in  the 
Garden,  314;  Madonna,  316, 
365;  318;  St.  Casimir,  327; 
St.  John  on  Patmos,  354. 

Domenichino,  8,  159;  St.  Agnes, 
202 ;  Venus  and  Satyr,  353 ; 
361. 

Donna  Velata,  by  Raphael,  241, 
296,  300. 

Dossi,  Dosso,  194. 

Don  wen.  Portraits  of  Anna 
Maria  de  Medici,  by,  355. 

Dovizi.     See  Bibiena. 

Dubhels,  Jan,  353. 

Duke  of  Marlborough,  120. 

Duplicity,  by  Salvator  Rosa,  60. 

Dupre,  Giovanni,  292-296;  Stat- 
ues of  Cain  and  Abel,  296. 

Durer,  Albert,  6,  55 ;  Adam  and 
Eve,  57-59;  136. 

Ecce  Homo,  by  Cigoli,  no;  by 

Sodoma,  283. 
Education  of  Jupiter,  Stanza  of, 

296-311. 
Elector  Palatine,  355. 
Eleonora  of  Mantua,  by  Pulzone, 

223,  326. 
Eleonora  of  Toledo,  23,  33,  330. 
Eleonora  of  Urbino,  56. 
Eliot,  George,  25,  163. 
Epiphany,  by  Ghirlandajo,  280; 

by  Pinturicchio,  270;  by  Pon- 

tormo,  287. 
Erasmus,  107,  320. 
Ercolani,  175. 
'•  Euridice,"  45. 

"  Faerie  Queene,"  266. 
Falier,  Giov.  and  Gins.,  334. 
Fancelli,  Luca  and  Silvestro,  20. 
Famese,  Alexander,  320,  324. 


Federigo  of  Denmark,  by  Suster- 

mans,  225. 
Federigo  of  Urbino,  37,  98. 
Ferri,  Cino,  38. 
Feti,  Domenico,  66. 
Filipepi,  261. 
Finding  of  Moses,  by  Giorgione, 

200. 
Flora,  Stanza  of,  333-352. 
Fontana,  Lavinia,  349 ;  Prospero, 

349- 

Fornarina,  Raphael's,  297. 

Fortune-Teller,  by  Manfredi,  62. 

Forty  Saints,  by  Pontormo,  204. 

Four  Philosophers,  by  Rubens, 
106. 

Francesco  Maria  of  Urbino,  81, 
99,  147. 

Francia,  171,  225,  287. 

Franciabigio,  Monaca,  ascribed 
to,  135;  "Calumny,"  by,  347. 

Francis  I.  of  France,  321. 

Franco,  Giovanni,  Battle  of  Mon- 
temurlo,  by,  140. 

Frassinetti,  365. 

Furini,  Adam  and  Eve,  346;  Al- 
legorical Subject,  347 ;  Fres- 
coes, by,  364. 

Fuseli,  25. 


Gabbiani,  238. 

Galileo,  37,  122,  129. 

Garofolo,  Sibyl,  by,  153;  Zinga- 
rella,  304. 

Genius  of  Art,  by  Riminaldi,  346. 

Gentilleschi,  Artemesia,  Mag- 
dalen, by,  158;  Judith,  by, 
328 ;  Another  Judith,  by,  352. 

Gerini  Gallery,  42,  88,  351. 

Ghirlandajo,  70;  Monaca, 
ascribed  to,  135;  Goldsmith, 
ascribed  to,  235;  Epiphany, 
by,  280. 

Giordano,  Luca,  Immaculate 
Conception,  by,   128;  198. 

Giorgione,  Monk  at  the  Clavi- 
chord, by,  8,  40,  137,  206; 
Nymph    and    Satyr,   by,    192; 


fn^cx 


383 


Finding   of   Moses,   by,    200; 

304- 

Giotto,  360. 

Giovanni  da  san  Giovanni,  350, 
362. 

Giovio,  324. 

Goldsmith,  The,  70,  235. 

Gonzaga,  Marquis,  80. 

Gozzoli,  Benozzo,  256. 

Granduca  Madonna,  by  Raphael, 
169,  241. 

Gravida,  by  Raphael,  242. 

Grotius,  107. 

Guarini,  361. 

Guercino,  Apollo  and  Marsyas, 
61 ;  St.  Joseph,  by,  61  ;  Rais- 
ing of  Tabitha,  by,  96;  St. 
Sebastian,  by,  127,  360;  Ma- 
donna della  Rondinella,  by, 
198 ;  Susannah  and  the  Elders, 
by,  244. 

Guiciardini,  10. 

Guidobaldo,  169. 


Hare,  171. 

Hawthorne,  119. 

Henrietta  Maria,  319. 

Henry  II.  of  France,  by  Clouet, 
308. 

Henry  IV.  of  France,  45,  224, 
268. 

Hilliard,  G.  S.,  165. 

Holbein,  177,  241. 

Holy  Family,  by  Bronzino,  91 ; 
by  Lorenzo  di  Credi,  278 ;  by 
Fra  Lippo  Lippi,  258;  by 
Palma  Vecchio,  123;  by  Ru- 
bens, 157,  244;  by  Andrea  del 
Sarto,  99,  1 2 1  ;  by  Luca  Signo- 
relli,  279;  by  Vasari,  339. 

Hondecoeter,  329. 

Honorius  III.,  189. 

Horner,  29. 

Howard,  Duke  of  Norfolk,  by 
Titian,  iii. 

Howell,  James,  30. 

Howells,  W.  D.,  369,  375. 

Huysums,  J.  van,  353. 


Iliad,  Hall  of  the,  42,  137,  206- 

245.  233.  332. 
Illumination,  302. 
Impannata,  Madonna  of  the,  by 

Raphael,  75,  113. 
Inghirami,  Tommaso,  by  Raphael, 

177. 
Innocent  IV.,  190. 
Inquisition,  229,  320. 

James,  Henry,  2,  303. 

Jameson,   Mrs.,  8,  9,   103,    172, 

297,  299,  336. 
Jesus  Crowning  Mary,  by  Allori, 

351- 
Johanna  of  Austria,  35,  232,  374. 
Judgment  of  Paris,  292. 
Judith,  by  Allori,  115;  by  Gen- 

tilleschi,  328,  352. 
Julius  II.,  109,  370. 
Jupiter,  Hall  of,  38,  60,  130-159. 
Justice,  Stanza  of,  321-332. 

Kirkup,  46. 

Kugler,  on  the  Three  Fates,  137  ; 
on  Sustermans,  147. 

La  Fontaine,  83. 

Lanfranco,  Assumption,  by,  243. 

Lanzi,  quoted,  41,  201,  343. 

Laocoon,  214. 

Last  Supper,  by  Tintoretto,  314. 

Leo  X.,  portrait  by  Raphael,  71 ; 
73,  89,  177,  179,  195,  230,  286, 
289,  298,  320,  327. 

Leonardo  da  Vinci,  3,  6,  7,  68, 
70,  86;  Nun,  by,  40,  134; 
Monna  Lisa,  by,  135,  297; 
Treatise  on  Battle,  141  ;  Gold- 
smith, by,  40,  235 ;  274,  307. 

Leopold,  370,  375. 

Leopold  II.,  42,  43,  44,  219. 

Leuchtenberg,  Prince  of,  294. 

Libri,  Fra  Girolamo,  302. 

Life  of  Joseph,  by  Del  Sarto, 
124. 

Ligozzi,  St.  Francis,  by,  315. 

Lippi,  Filippino,  Holy  Family, 
by,  256;  Lucrezia,  by,  258. 


3^4 


ITnbex 


Lippi,  Fra  Lippo,  2,  4 ;  Madonna, 
8;  Sketch  of,  252-256. 

Lipsius,  107. 

"  Lives  of  the  Painters,"  by  Va- 
sari,  324. 

Longfellow,  quoted,  49,  54,  180, 
306. 

Lorraine  Family,  24,  36,  38,  39, 

339.  366. 
Lotto,  Lorenzo,  137. 
Louis  XIIL,  224,  225. 
Louvre  Gallery,  202. 
Lucian,  347. 
Lucrezia  of  Ferrara,  by  Bronzino, 

310. 
Lucrezia,  wife  of  Del  Sarto,  317. 
Luigi,    Cornaro,    by    Tintoretto, 

122. 
Luini,  Aurelio,  Magdalen,  by,  127. 
Luxemburg,  30. 

Madelena  Doni,  by  Raphael,  70. 
Madonna,  School  of  Bellini,  270. 
Madonna,    by    Cigoli,    348 ;    by 

Dolci,    316;     School    of    Del 

Sarto,  316;  by  Del  Sarto,  317  ; 

another  Del  Sarto,  352. 
Madonna  of   the  Chair,  by  Ra- 
phael, 75,  82,  160. 
"  Madonna  of  the  Long  Neck," 

by  Parmigiano,  242. 
Madonna    della    Lucertola,     by 

Raphael,  74. 
Madonna  of   the    Pomegranate, 

by  Lippo  Lippi,  253,  256. 
Madonna     del     Rondinella,     by 

Guercino,  198. 
Madonna  of  the  Rosary,  by  Mu- 

rillo,  76 ;  Another  Madonna,  by 

Murillo,  76. 
Maffei,  Andrea,  295. 
Magdalen,    by   Cigoli,    127;    by 

Gentilleschi,  1 58 ;  by  Perugino, 

93;    by    Titian,    78,    81;     by 

Zuccari,  277. 
Mancini,  Sts.  Henry  and  Cune- 

gunda,  by,  309. 
Manetti,  64. 
Manfredi,  Bart.,  62. 


Mann,  Sir  Horace,  40. 

Manozzi,  Return  from  the  Hunt, 

by,  156;  332,  350*  362. 

Mantegna,  360. 

Maratta,  Carlo,  St.  Philip  Neri, 
by,  99. 

"  Margutte,"  370. 

Maria  Theresa,  39,  40. 

Marie  Louise,  41. 

Marines,  by  Salvator  Rosa,  59. 

Marini,  361. 

Marriage  of  St.  Catherine,  by 
Titian,  52. 

Mars,  Hall  of,  39,  100-129;  328. 

Mars  Preparing  for  War,  by  Ru- 
bens, 100. 

Mary  Queen  of  Scots,  308. 

Massaccio,  252. 

Massaniello,  144. 

Massimi,  iii. 

Mazzafirra,  115. 

Mazzolini,  Woman  Taken  in 
Adultery,  by,  155. 

Medici,  9,  14,  32,  in,  161,  238, 
362;  Anna  Maria  de,  355; 
Bernadetto,  282;  Cardinal 
Carlo  de,  60,  309,  316;  Cath- 
erine de,  308;  Cosimo,  10,  12, 
14,  15,  18,  19,  23,  226;  Cos- 
imo L,  23,  34,  39,  44,  78,  81, 
115,  141  ;  Portrait  of,  by  Bron- 
zino, 226;  231,  268,  310,  329, 
368,  370,  373 ;  Cosimo  II.,  24, 
36.  37^  95.  147  ;  Cosimo  III., 
37  ;  147,  238,  244 ;  Portrait  and 
life  of,  275,  309,  360,  371,  372  ; 
Ferdinand  I.,  36,  8y,  99,  234, 
268  ;  Ferdinand  II.,  24,  37,  44, 
99,  146,  218;  Portrait  of,  226, 
244,  275,  291,  331 ;  Portrait  of, 
339;  Funeral  of,  341,363,  374, 
Ferdinand  III.,  41,  76,  87,  88, 
136,  169,  170;  Francesco  I., 
34,  81,  223,  224;  Portrait,  231, 
268,  371,  374;  Don  Garcia  de, 
310;  Gian  Gaston  de,  371; 
Giulio  de,  195,  229,  267;  Ippo- 
lito  de,  195,  229;  Julius  de, 
71;   Leopold  de,  95,  96,  300, 


irnt)ex 


38s 


321  ;  Lorenzo  the  Magnificent, 
15,  18,  44,  176,  178,  362,  365, 
367 ;  Lucrezia  de,  44 ;  Marie 
de,  30,  44,  268 ;  Matteo  de, 
37;  Ottaviano  de,  72,  122, 
Pietro,  15,  16,  17. 

Memmi,  Lippo,  163. 

Mendoza,  Don  Diego  da,  by 
Titian,  226. 

Mengs,  214. 

Michelangelo,  7,  49,  54,  58,  86; 
Three  Fates,  136;  199,  264,  278, 
306,  3231  324,  364;  Prisoners, 
370;   Bastion,  371. 

Michelangelo  Buonarotti  the 
Younger,  38. 

Michelozzo,  18. 

Migna,  Adam  and  Eve,  by,  278. 

Milton,  49. 

Minghetti,  297. 

Missisimi,  338. 

Monaca  (the  Nun),  by  Leonardo 
da  Vinci,  70,  134,  235. 

Monk  at  the  Clavichord,  by 
Giorgione,  206. 

Montalvo,  293, 

Moore,  Dr.  John,  39,  164. 

Morelli,  Opinion  of,  on  Three 
Ages  of  Man,  138;  on  Giorgi- 
o  n  e's  Moses,  200;  on  the 
Granduca  Madonna,  169;  on 
the  Vision  of  Ezekiel,  175;  on 
the  Monk  at  the  Clavichord, 
209 ;  on  the  Zingarella,  304  ; 
on  Botticelli,  266. 

Morone,  School  of,  89. 

Motley,  228. 

Muntz,  70;  on  Granduca  Ma- 
donna, 171. 

Murillo,  2,  76-78,  161,  300. 

Naples,  73,  320,  350. 
Napoleon,  209;  by  Canova,  357. 
National  Gallery,  London,  52. 
Nativity,  by,  Procaccino,  318. 
Noble,  Mark,  232,  375. 
Nuremberg,  58. 

Nymph  and  Satyr,  by  Giorgione, 
192. 


Opera,  Origin  of  Italian,  44. 
Orsi,  Lelio,  Nativity,  by,  146. 
Orsini,  Alex.,  115. 
Orvieto,  280. 
Owen,  A.  C,  59,  171. 

Pallas  and  the  Centaur,  by  Bot- 
ticelli, 365. 

Palma  Giovane,  54. 

Palma  Vecchio,  90,  123,  268. 

Panciatichi,  215. 

Papi,  Clementi,  295. 

Parable  of  the  Vine,  by  Domen- 
ico  Feti,  66 ;  of  the  Lost  Piece 
of  Money,  66. 

Parigi,  24. 

Paris,  42,  65,  116,  142,  209:  Abel 
exhibited  in,  294;  357. 

Parlamento,  12,  15,  16,  17. 

Parmigiano,  "  Madonna  of  the 
Long  Neck,"  242. 

Passavant,  176,  177. 

Passerini,  Cosimo,  218. 

Passignano,  in. 

Pastorals,  by  Bassano,  287,  288. 

Pater,  Walter,  on  Botticelli,  259, 
261. 

Paul  IIL,  by  Bordone,  320. 

Paul  v.,  122. 

Peace  Burning  the  Arms  of  War, 
by  Rosa,  352. 

Peri,  Jacopo,  45. 

Perugino,  2;  Magdalen,  93 ; 
Monaca,  ascribed  to,  135  ;  169, 
170;  Deposition,  180;  Advice 
to  a  Prior,  182;  226;  Virgin 
and  Child,  239  ;  271,  313,  360. 

Pescia,  73. 

Petrarch,  360. 

Petrucci,  Cardinal,  73. 

Philip   II.,  by  Titian,    121,    228, 

304. 
Philip  IV.,  by  Velasquez,  304. 
Phillips,  Claude,  209. 
Piero  di  Cosimo,  135,  148. 
Pieta.    See  Deposition. 
"  Pietra  Dura,"  mosaic,  159. 
Pietro  Leopold,  39,  41,  215. 
Pinamonte,  Padre,  by  Pozzo,  360. 


386 


tnbcx 


Pinturicchio,  2,  270. 

Piombo,  Sebastiano  del,  St. 
Agatha,  by,  202. 

Pitti,  Buonacorso,  23,  33. 

Pitti,  Luca,  9-31 ;  Public  Offices 
held  by,  10;  Triumph,  12; 
Defeat,  17;  Building  of  Palace, 
18-20;  32. 

Pitti  Palace,  i,  2;  History  and 
Architecture,  9-31  ;  Building, 
14  ;  Facade,  22  ;  Rustications 
on,  24 ;  Garden  Front,  27 ; 
Fountain,  29 ;  42,  44 ;  Gallery 
in,  I,  3,  7,  8,  37,  38,  42,  47  ; 
No  characteristic  picture  by 
Veronese  in,  130;  Battle  of 
Montemurlo,  141;  269;  Deco- 
rations by  Cortona,  291 ;  Cain 
and  Abel  bought,  295 ;  Clovio 
visits,  303 ;  Francis  I.  methods, 
232;  Four  Examples  of  Polem- 
berg,  318  ;  330;  the  Collection, 
I,  340;  Home  of  Anna  Maria 
de  Medici,  355;  Royal  Apart- 
ments, 362-369. 

Piatt's  "  Italian  Gardens,"  370, 
374. 

Poccetti,  Galleria,  357-361. 

Poccianti,  24. 

Poet,  by  Salvator  Rosa,  205. 

Polemberg,  318. 

Ponte,  Leandro  da.   See  Bassano. 

Ponte  Trinita,  23. 

Ponte  Vecchio,  3,  19,  325. 

Pontormo,  Forty  Saints,  by,  195, 
204 ;  Epiphany,  by,  287. 

Porbus,  Franz,  326. 

Pordenone,  Holy  Family,  by,  98. 

Poussin,  Caspar  D.,  342. 

Preaching  of  the  Baptist,  by 
AUori,  3 1 5. 

Presentation  in  the  Temple,  by 
Veronese,  300. 

Procaccino,  Nativity,  by,  318. 

Prometheus,  Stanza  of,  3,  246- 
289;  321,357. 

Pugliese,  186. 

Pulzone,  Portraits,  by,  223,  224. 

Putti,  Sala  dei,  351,  352-357. 


Raibolini.     See  Francia. 

Raphael,  2,  3,  7 ;  Donna  Velata, 
8,  50,68,  69-74;  86,  121,  296, 
300;  Angelo  Doni,  69;  Made- 
lena  Doni,  69-70;  Leo  X.,  71- 
74  ;  Madonna  of  the  Goldfinch, 
75;  Madonna  Impannata,  75, 
113;  Madonna  of  the  Chair, 
75,  82,  160  e(  seq. ;  Madonna  of 
the  Diadem,  75;  Julius  II., 
109;  Three  manners  of,  167; 
Granduca  Madonna,  169;  Ma- 
donna of  the  Baldacchino,  172  ; 
Vision  of  Ezekiel,  173;  Cardi- 
nal Bibiena,  175;  Inghirami, 
177;  184,  236;  Gravida,  242; 
Compared  with  Botticelli,  264 ; 

329'  323- 

Razzi  or  Bazzi.     See  Sodoma. 

Rebecca  at  the  Well,  by  Reni, 
117. 

Rembrandt,  65  ;  Portrait  of  him- 
self, 88;  Saskia,  88,  345. 

Reni,  Guido,  i,  4;  Cleopatra,  8, 
299,  296 ;  Bacchus,  9,  94 ;  Re- 
becca at  the  Well,  117;  St. 
Peter,  126,  159;  Charity,  227. 

Repose  in  Egypt,  by  Bordone, 
125;  by  Van  Dyck,  350. 

Return  from  the  Hunt,  by  Ma- 
nozzi,  156. 

Ribera,  Martyrdom  of  St.  Bar- 
tholomew, by,  62. 

Richelieu,  339. 

Ridolfi,  209,  366. 

Riminaldi,  Genius  of  Art,  by,  346 ; 
St.  Cecilia,  by,  359. 

Risen  Christ,  by  Fra  Bartolom- 
meo,  199. 

Romano,  Giulio,  71,72;  Madonna 
Lucertola,  74 ;  Impannata,  1 14  ; 
Vision  of  Ezekiel,  175,  Apollo 
and  the  Muses,  201,  302. 

Rosa,  Salvator,  i,  4;  Vow  of 
Catiline,  8,  60,  142;  Marines, 
59 ;  D  u  p  1  i  c  i  t  y,  60 ;  Battles, 
1 40  ;  Life  of,  1 44  ;  Fortuna, 
145;  Poet,  205;  Portrait  of 
himself,    225;    Warrior,    239; 


fn&er 


387 


Landscapes,  342  ;  Peace  Burn- 
ing the  Arms  of  War,  352 ; 
Diogenes,  354. 

Rose,  G.  B.,  7,  192. 

Rose-Bush,  Madonna  of,  by  Bot- 
ticelli, 266, 

Roselli,  Matteo,  64. 

Rossi,  Cardinal  Luigi  de,  71. 

Rosso  Fiorentino,  Fates,  ascribed 
to,  136. 

Rosso,  Zanobi,  375. 

Rovere,  Vittoria  della,  37,  99 ; 
Portrait  as  a  Vestal,  146;  244, 
275;  by  Sustermans  and  Dolci, 
330 ;  340. 

Rubens,  Peter  Paul,  60,  100-108 ; 
Ulysses,  61  ;  Mars  Preparing 
for  War,  100;  Life  of,  102; 
Four  Philosophers,  106;  St. 
Francis,  108,  130;  Holy 
Family,  157;  244;  Bacchanale, 
158;  224. 

Rubens,  Phillip,  106. 

Rudolf,  Emperor,  58. 

Ruskin,  John,  on  Cupids  and 
Angels,  9;  on  Luca  Pitti,  14; 
on  Pitti  Palace,  23,  25 ;  on 
Titian,  52,  53,  82,  112;  on 
Durer,  58  ;  on  Salvator  Rosa, 
59,  60,  316,  355 ;  on  Rubens,  60, 
105,  1 57  ;  on  Raphael,  113,  175; 
on  Veronese,  134;  on  the  Con- 
spiracy of  Catiline,  144;  on 
Perugino,  181  ;  on  Giorgione, 
206 ;  on  Fra  Angelico,  247  ;  on 
Pinturicchio,  272;  on  Dolci, 
328  ;  on  Canova,  337  ;  on  Pous- 
sin,  342. 

Rustici,  66,  148. 

Ruthart,  Carl,  345. 

Ruysch,  Rachel,  352. 

Sabatelli,  42. 

Sacrifice  of  Abraham,  by  Allori, 

126. 
Salembeni,  89,  94. 
Salviati,  "  Patience,"  by,  329. 
Sappho,  191. 
Sarto,  Andrea  del,  2,  3, 72  ;  Depo- 


sition, 87  ;  Holy  Family,  99, 
121,  317,  352;  Life  of  Joseph, 
124,  150;  Annunciation,  126, 
152,  200;  Portrait  of  himself 
and  his  wife,  147  :  Life  of,  148 ; 
Disputa,  150,  186;  Assump- 
tion of  the  Virgin  (No.  191), 
215  ;  (No  225),  216;  Portrait  of 
himself,  225;  St.  John  the 
Baptist,  303. 

Saturn,  Hall  of,  38,  160-205. 

Savonarola,  85. 

Scala,  J.  della,  201. 

Scarcellino,  328. 

Schiavone,  Cain  and  Abel,  by, 
196. 

Schlegel,  on  AUori's  Judith,  116; 
on  St.  Agatha,  by  Piombo,  202  ; 
on  Italian  Painting,  360. 

Scott,  Leader,  22. 

Seneca,  106. 

Settignano,  Astoldo,  374. 

Settignano,  Valere  de,  369. 

Severi,  Giov.,  iir. 

Shakespeare,  258. 

Signorelli,  Luca,  Holy  Family,  by 
279. 

Signoria,  The,  10,  11,  13,  15. 

Signoria,  Palazzo,  13,  34. 

Sistine  Chapel,  323. 

Sleeping  Love,  by  Caravaggio, 
221. 

Soderini,  Niccolo,  16,   17. 

Sodoma  (Razzi  or  Bazzi),  Ecce 
Homo,  by,  283. 

Sogsi,  120. 

Solyman,  230. 

Spagnoletto,  St.  Francis,  by,  98. 

Spanish  Influence,  300. 

Spence,  366. 

Sponsalizia,  by  Manetti,  64. 

St.  Agatha,  by  Sebastian  del 
Piombo,  202. 

St.  Agnes,  by  Domenichino,  202. 

St.  Augustine,  121,  189. 

St.  Bartholomew,  by  Ribera,  62. 

St.  Benedict,  by  Veronese,  227. 

St.  Carlo  Borromeo,  308. 

St.  Casimir,  by  Dolci,  327. 


388 


fn^ex 


St.  Catherine,  by  Bassano,  63. 
St.  Cecilia,  by  Riminaldi,  359. 
St.  Cunegunda,  309. 
St.  Domenico  in  a  Grotto,  332. 
St.  Francis,   by  Cigoli,  94,  314; 

by  Ligozzi,  315;    by   Rubens, 

108. 
St.    Francis    Xavier,    by    Dolci, 

3"- 
St.  George,  by  Bordone,  224. 
Sts.   Henry  and   Cunegunda,  by 

Mancini,  309. 
St.  Jerome,  by  Calvart,  345 ;  by 

Tintoretto,  51 ;  by  Vasari,  324. 
St.  John   in   the  Desert,  by  Al- 

lori,  317. 
St.  John  Asleep,  by  Dolci,  197. 
St.   John    Evangelist,   by   Dolci, 

239.  332. 
St.  John  on   Patmos,  by  Dolci, 

354. 
St.  John  Baptist,  by  Sarto,  303. 
St.    John    Preaching,   by    Tassi, 

349- 
St.  Joseph,  by  Guercino,  61. 
St.  Julian,  by  Allori,  91. 
St.  Marc,  by  Fra  Bartolommeo, 

154. 

St.  Margaret,  by  Dolci,  242. 

St.  Margaret  of  Cortona,  216. 

St.    Martino,  by  Pietro  da  Cor- 
tona, 65. 

St.  Niccolo  de  Ban,  217. 

St.  Niccolo  de  Tolenta,  by  Dolci, 

311- 

St.  Peter,  by  Dolci,  126,  339;  by 

Guido  Reni,  126. 
St.  Peter  Martyr,  189. 
St.  Philip  Neri,  by  Maratta,  99. 
St.  Reparata,  238. 
St.  Rosa,  by  Dolci,  196. 
St.  Sebastian,  by  Guercino,  127  ; 

Another,  360. 
Stillman,  170. 
Strachey,  Henry,  109,  180. 
Strozzi,  9,  20,  22,  70,  241. 
Stiifa,  Stanza  della,  290-296. 
Supper  at    Emmaus,    by   Palma 

Vecchio,  90. 


Susannah  and  the  Elders,  by 
Guercino,  244. 

Sustermans,  129;  Vittoria  Ro- 
vere,  by,  146;  Federigo  of 
Denmark,  by,  225;  Ferdinand 
II.,  by,  226,  339  ;  Madonna,  by, 
244;  Cosimo  III.,  by,  275. 

Swanevelt,  332. 

Symonds,  J.  A.,  179,  207,  226. 

Tabitha,  Raising  of,  by  Guercino, 

96. 
Tacca,  35,  374. 
Taine,    90,    112;    Monaca,    135; 

Madonna  of  the  Chair,  163. 
Tassi,  St.  John,  by,  349. 
Tasso,  360. 

Tempera  painting,  262. 
Temptation  of  St.  Anthony,  by 

Rosa,  316. 
Teniel,  J.,  316. 
Tennyson,  49. 
Theophilus,  248. 
Three   Ages   of  Man,  by  Lotto, 

137- 

Three  Fates,  by  Michelangelo, 
136. 

Three  Maries,  by  Veronese,  132. 

Tiarini,  Adam  and  Eve,  by,  358. 

Tiberio  Tito,  95,  96. 

Tinelli,  224. 

Tintoretto,  2,  6,  7 ;  Venus  and 
Vulcan,  by,  8,  47;  46,  51.  5^, 
57»  79;  St.  Jerome  in  the 
Forest,  by,  51 ;  102 ;  Luigi  Cor- 
naro,  by,  122;  Paradise  and 
Crucifixion,  by,  132;  193,  194, 
300 ;  Deposition,  by,  306 ; 
Virgin,  by,  311,  320  ;  332. 

Titian,  2,  3,  7,  40,  46,  47,  51-57, 
102  ;  Marriage  of  St.  Catherine, 
by,  52;  Bella,  by,  55,  68,  11 1  ; 
Magdalen,  by,  78,  81 ;  Pietro 
Aretino,  by,  78  ;  Howard,  Duke 
of  Norfolk,  by,  iii;  Andrea 
Vesalius,  by,  121  ;  Assumption, 
in  Venice,  by,  131,  311  ;  192, 
193,  195,  201,  205,  209;  Men- 
doza,  by,  226;  Philip    II.,  by^ 


tn^ex 


3^9 


228;  Ippolito  de  Medici,  by, 
229;  Christ,  by,  231;  Sacred 
and  Profane  Love,  by,  241  ; 
264  ;  F 1  o  r  a,  by,  297  ;  298  ; 
School  of,  300 ;  320,  360. 

Tobias,  by  Biliverti,  218;  School 
of  Del  Sarto,  315. 

Tolstoi,  49. 

Torentino,  325. 

Tornabuoni,  16. 

"  Treatise  on  Anatomy,"  by  Al- 
lori,  315. 

"  Treatise  on  Painting,"  Leo- 
nardo, 6,  141. 

Tribolo,  369. 

Triptych,  by  Fra  Angelico,  250. 

Triumph  of  David,  by  Roselli, 
64. 

Turner,  53,  59. 

Uffizi,  21,  35,  36,  56,  87, 109,  IIS  ; 
Fates,  137;  Madonna  del 
Arpie,  150;   199,  251;  Bridge, 

325- 
Ulysses,  by  Rubens,  60,  61. 
Ulysses,  Stanza  of,  312-321. 

Van  der  Werff,  120. 

Van  Dyck,  Cardinal  Bentivoglio, 
122;  177,  195,  223,  319;  Repose 
in  Egypt,  350. 

Vanni,  Octavio,  Frescoes,  by, 
364. 

Vasari,  20,  72;  on  Perugino,  181 ; 
on  Giorgione,  193 ;  on  Ghir- 
landajo,  236;  on  Parmigiano, 
243 ;  on  Lippi,  252 ;  on  Botti- 
celli, 267,  368;  279;  on  So- 
doma,  284-285  ;  on  Clovio,  303  ; 
319;  St.  Jerome,  by,  321  ;  Ma- 
donna, by,  339;  Grotto,  by, 
370;  Estimate  oif,  321. 

Vatican,  167,  176,  236,  320. 

Velasquez.  55,  77,  225,  228; 
Philip  IV.,  by,  304. 

Veneziano,  283. 

Venice,  47,  50,  54,  79,  80,  102, 
130. 


Venus,  Hall  of,  39,  46-67. 

Venus  de  Medici,  42,  335. 

Venus  de  Milo,  47. 

Venus  and  Satyrs,  by  Domeni- 
chino,  353. 

Venus  and  Vulcan,  by  Tinto- 
retto, 8,  47. 

Veronese,  2,  46,  47,  56,  57  ;  His 
Wife,  90;  102,  123,  130-134; 
Marriage  in  Cana,  131  ;  Three 
Maries,  132  ;  Christ  and  Mary, 
^33'^  192*  193;  Baptism  of 
Christ,  221 ;  St.  Benedict,  227  ; 
Barbaro,  238 ;  Presentation  in 
the  Temple,  300;  Two  Chil- 
dren,  308. 

Vesalius,  Andrea,  by  Titian,  121. 

Volterrano,  128-129. 

"  Voyage  in  Italy,"  by  Style,  341. 

Victor  Emmanuele,  375. 

Vignole,  Jacopo,  197. 

Vincenzio  of  Mantua,  223. 

Vinci.     See  Leonardo. 

Viollet  le  Due,  74. 

Virgin,  by  Tintoretto,  311. 

Virgin  and   Child,  by  Perugino, 

.239- 
Virgin    Enthroned,  by  Fra   Bar- 

tolommeo,  237. 
Vision   of   Ezekiel,  by  Raphael, 

^73- 
Vitelli,  275. 
Viterbo,  196. 
Viti,  Timoteo,  169. 
Vivarini,  304. 

Walpole,  40. 

Warrior,  Salvator  Rosa,  239. 
Wife  of  Veronese,  90. 
Woltmann  and  Woermann,  Pieta, 

84;  Dispnta,  190;  Deposition, 

184. 
Woman  Taken   in  Adultery,  by 

Mazzolini,  155. 

Zelotti,  90. 

Zingarella,  by  Boccaccino,  304. 

Zuccari,  Magdalen,  by,  277. 


nm 


ii\}i. 


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